


what remains

by neroh



Category: Chronicles of Riddick Series, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BDSM, Betrayal, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Falling In Love, First Time, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Non-Canonical Character Death, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Porn With Plot, Rape Recovery, Slavery, Slow Burn, Star Trek: Into Darkness Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 06:03:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 49,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neroh/pseuds/neroh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With his ship destroyed and his crew dead, Jim has been sold into slavery by Khan and left to rot.  A chance encounter with a stranger who bears the face of a friend leads him down a path of vengeance...and salvation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. interitio

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [残垣断壁](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12649800) by [red_button](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_button/pseuds/red_button)



> This is based off a prompt by [froggy_freek](http://archiveofourown.org/users/froggy_freek) that evolved into some serious angst (and eventual smut). 
> 
> A huge thank you my beta reader Emma for being amazing, as well as Tresa and Hammer for letting me harass them constantly.
> 
> Make sure you check out Orenjimaru's [amazing piece of fanart](http://orenjimaru.tumblr.com/post/79478241745/now-that-what-remains-by-nerodeniro-is-completed) and bonesque's [fantastic gif set](http://bonesque.tumblr.com/post/79695388273/you-and-i-together-we-will-rule-this-empirelike)!

Jim doesn’t want to remember how he got here, not that he has much of a say.  
  
Or maybe he does and can’t bring himself to think about it for very long. 

It comes in snippets: the familiar faces, voices blurring together, stars twinkling against the vastness of space, and fire burning hot all around him. 

And the bitter cold that comes in the form of ice blue eyes…with the deep baritone that follows, mocking him with cruel words and even crueler actions.

He burrows into the section where the metal walls of his cell meet, trying to make himself as small as possible in the dark and dank space. 

Straw lies on the ground and never keeps the cold at bay; it’s just as useless as the threadbare piece of fabric that can hardly pass for scraps much less a blanket. The far end of his cell houses a putrid smelling bucket of water; it’s more like decay than anything one could ingest. The stink alone makes Jim gag if he dares to crawl near it. Perhaps that’s the point: for someone to become desperate enough to drink it and die from whatever bacteria lives inside.

At least his captors afford him one small mercy: a vial and accompanying syringe. The moment the purple liquid gets plunged into his veins, Jim can sink into a stupor that keeps his nightmares—and withdrawal’s effects, when the slave traders are being especially cruel—at bay. Everything disappears and he can forget about the clanking of chains and cries from other slaves. The mind-wrecking anguish disappears and he feels a sense of calm. Sometimes he can even fall asleep, though he ends up jerking awake with one of his crew's names on his tongue, ready to be screamed in warning. He sees their faces surrounded by the explosions that robbed them of their lives.

But there’s only one name that breaks his heart anew and makes Jim dissolve into sobs. 

Even when he’s so high and words are out of reach, that name has the power to make silent tears fall. 

Maybe it’s better that Bones is dead; that all of them are dead. No one will have to see Jim like this; a fragile, broken imitation of who he used to be. 

They’re all dead; consumed by the _Vengeance’s_ weaponry Khan fired upon the _Enterprise_ while Jim watched helplessly. Over his pleas for their lives, he heard their screams and Khan’s laughter. 

“Have I got your attention now?” Khan inquired once  _Enterprise_  had disintegrated into little more than fading embers before their eyes.

Jim had fallen to the metal floor, his grief too overwhelming to keep him upright. He barely felt Khan’s unforgiving grip when his fingers dug into his arm and hauled Jim to his feet. Keeping his eyes glued to the viewscreen as they left the bridge, Jim hadn’t tried to pull away. He just kept hoping that by some miracle, his crew was still alive. 

Thinking about the things Khan did or said to him in the brig makes Jim ill. He still hears that deep, serpent-like voice in his ear; the same one whispering about his plans to ruin Starfleet as he used Jim’s body until his mind shattered. Only then had Jim become useless to Khan.

“Remember this, James,” the Augment said to him when the Orion traders took him away wearing his mangled uniform and heavy chains clasped on his wrists. They stopped, forcing Jim to face Khan. “When you become a lowly whore in a pleasure house, you will remember it was _I_ who broke you.”  
  
One last jab to an already broken man. Now he’s just a shell in a dirty uniform that doesn’t mean a damn thing to anyone, much less him. Jim rests his forehead against the dirty wall, remembering Pike’s words. Hearing them replay in his head causes him to begin giggling hysterically. It’s a weak, raspy sound; not loud enough to attract the attention of the guards or other cells. Tracing a dirty fingernail over the grimy wall, he whispers, “You were half right, Chris,” he whispers. The Starfleet insignia gleams back at him and tears begin falling down his unclean cheeks. “Wish you were totally right,” he says to no one as the doors into the slave corridor open.   
  
The sound ricochets as do the footsteps that follow. The Orion traders have brought a prospective buyer to view their inventory and one unlucky slave will them. He knows the drill by this point and crawls to the front of his cell where he situates himself in front of the bars and bows his head.   
  
“Does gender matter?” one of the traders ask.   
  
A moment passes before the buyer speaks. “No. Aesthetics are important.”  
  
“Yes, of course, my lord,” the trader replies, his voice sounding closer. “I have a pretty one here. A young Terran male.”  
  
Jim squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to scream. Panic burns at his throat as they come closer.   
  
“A Terran male?” the buyer says. “It is illegal to buy and sell Terrans as slaves, is it not?”  
  
The Orion is a fast talker. “True, but what isn’t illegal these days with the Federation lurking around?” He laughs. “Besides, once you clean him up he will make a pretty addition to your bedchamber.”  
  
Jim opens his eyes to find two pairs of boots standing in front of his cell. From beneath his lashes, he makes out the shape of the lecherous trader and the buyer. The light coming from behind them darkens their features.   
  
The buyer tilts his head in consideration as he appraises Jim. “Why does he wear those rags?”  
  
“Oh, that?” the trader says. “It’s a Terran military uniform.”   
  
“Military you say?” the buyer says, intrigued. He takes a step towards the bars and peers inside as Jim lowers his head. “He seems too weak to be in the military. Look at him! His eyes are unfocused.”  
  
“But they shine like sapphires.”  
  
“They barely shine at all.”  
  
The Orion scoffs. “Well, Lord Vaako, we had to do _something_ to keep him from lashing out,” he explains, annoyed.  
  
“I highly doubt this one is capable of drooling much less putting up a fight,” the buyer laughs.  
  
Jim looks up and winces at the brightness coming through the bars. “I was a captain,” he slurs.   
  
“A captain?” the trader asks mockingly. “Where’s your ship, lad? Waiting for the likes of you?”  
  
Jim runs his tongue over his cracked, dry lips. “Captain…” he mumbles, resting his forehead against the cool metal. “I was a captain…”  
  
“He’s delusional,” the trader says to the other man. He kneels down, his green lips curling into a menacing smile. “Aren’t you, _captain_?”  
  
Jim is lighting fast, striking with his mouth as he bites the Orion’s cheek. The trader howls in pain as his teeth sink into the tender flesh and blood fills his mouth. It runs down the sides of his chin as he latches on with intention of maiming his captor. 

He only wishes it was the trader’s throat. 

Jim pulls back, taking a chunk of the Orion’s cheek with him and spitting it back out in defiance. He bares his teeth like a feral animal, even growling as he scampers towards the wall. It’s fitting seeing how they keep him locked in this cell like one.  
  
“You little shit!” the trader shrieks, clutching his cheek. Blood seeps through his fingers, dripping darkly. “I’ll have your balls for this!”  
  
The other man - this _lord_ \- apparently disagrees as he says in a low, rumbling drawl, “No, you won’t. What’s his price?”  
  
“He’s untrained,” the trader argues. “And a miscreant!”  
  
“I am perfectly capable of handling this captain,” the man says flippantly. “Draw up the contract.” His tone leaves no room for argument; the familiarity of it makes Jim’s heart stir and ache.  
  
The trader hisses in pain as he shouts for his assistant. “Yes, Lord Vaako,” he replies as the other Orion’s hurries to them. They speak in hushed voices while the man kneels. 

His armor catches in the light, shining briefly as he moves. His pale skin illuminates under the dim lighting, casting a shadow over his eyes. There’s something about the shape of his lips and the curve of his nose that reminds Jim of someone. “You,” he states. “Do you have a name?” 

His voice lacks Bones’ Southern accent and warmth, but it’s nearly identical.   
  
Jim peers over his knees that are drawn up to his chest before hesitantly crawling towards his new master. He presses his face against the bars. “It’s Jim,” he replies. “James.”  
  
“James,” Vaako echoes, testing the name out on his tongue. He shrugs. “I am Lord Siberius Vaako, your new master.”  
  
Jim clutches the bars with both hands, craning his head to get a better look at the man before him. “I know. I heard the trader say your name.” This earns an eye roll that makes Jim do a double take. “Bones?” he gasps, eyes widening. Vaako stares at him, not saying a word. “Bones? What are you doing here?” Jim says, reaching through the bars to touch Vaako’s hand resting on his knee. “I thought you were dead…I saw the ship… he destroyed the ship. How did you escape?”  
  
The Orion’s baton flies through the bars, colliding with the side of Jim’s face. “Hey!” he shouts as Jim stumbles back with a pained yelp. “Keep your hands inside, you piece of shit!” 

As he goes for another blow, Vaako leaps to his feet and grabs the baton, tossing it aside. His glove-covered fist clutch the Orion by the throat and hoists him off the ground. “Don’t touch what’s mine,” he growls, dropping the trader to the ground. He reaches into his armor, withdrawing a bag and tosses it towards the assistant. “This should be more than enough. Now open his cell.” 

Blood trickles down Jim’s neck and into the collar of his uniform. Pain radiates through his head as one of the Orions grab him by the arm and roughly drag him to his feet. Jim groans as dizziness churns his stomach. 

“I’ll take him,” Vaako snaps, batting the assistant’s hand away. 

Jim shields his eyes as he’s pushed into Vaako’s solid body. The other man steadies him and keeps Jim from toppling over. When the world stops swaying, he finds himself staring at Bones’ mirror image: a man with pale, almost translucent skin with scars where Bones had none, raven hair, and dark irises surrounded by shadows. He has none of Bones’ warmth, only a cold, steel-like gaze that sends a shiver through Jim’s spine. 

“Come,” Vaako orders, shoot a glare in the Orion’s direction.  
  
Jim follows—leaving with Vaako is a far better option than staying in this hell hole—and ventures out into open air for the first time in forever. His mind reels at the realization. “Khan said you were dead,” he mumbles.  
  
“What are you talking about?” Vaako asks as they leave.  
  
Jim snorts. “You’re funny.”  
  
“I assure you I am not,” Vaako deadpans, casting a glance at Jim. His cold eyes bore into Jim’s and whatever Vaako finds does not please him.  
  
The sneer tugging on Vaako’s mouth makes Jim feel sick. “Bones,” he pleads. “Bones, I’m sorry.”  
  
“I am not this _Bones_ ,” Vaako snarls. “And I order you to cease calling me as such.”  
  
“Is this your escape plan, Bones?” Jim babbles as Vaako guides them through a maze of buildings and people. “Where’s Spock and Nyota? Is everyone okay? How’s the ship?” He lurches forward as Vaako shoves him into a wall.

Nostrils flared and face darkening with rage, Vaako crowds over Jim. “I am _not_ Bones,” he hisses. “Whoever you think I am, you will forget about him. He is dead to you as you are to him. Now you are _mine_!”  
  
“But you look just…” Jim stammers.  
  
Vaako pushes him again and cuts off Jim, ignoring his cry of pain. Shaking his head, Vaako says threateningly,“You are mistaken.” When Jim nods, he returns it. “Good.” 

They set off again in silence and walk quickly through the city. When they come upon a black shuttle, Jim stops and sucks in a deep breath. 

“What?” Vaako snaps irritably. “What is it?”  
  
“I feel sick,” Jim manages to rasp before vomiting on the ground. Vaako watches him in silence, never voicing any disgust or making an effort to help him. Spitting the bitter taste in his mouth and wiping his sleeve over his lips, Jim notices the first tremor from withdrawal. In a few short hours, he will be in agony. “Sorry,” he whispers.  
  
Vaako raises an eyebrow before he tugs on Jim and they start walking again. “Tell me of your ship,” he demands. He inclines his head to the guards posted outside the shuttle doors.   
  
“My ship is gone,” Jim says quietly as he takes in the sleek alloy.   
  
“Gone?”  
  
Jim nods. “Khan destroyed it.”  
  
“Khan,” Vaako repeats as he shoves Jim into one of the seats and straps him in. He turns to the pilot. “Take us.”  
  
“Where are we going?” Jim asks. He watches as Vaako settles into a seat across from him. “Where are you taking me?”  
  
Vaako spares him a glance before removing his gloves. “That is none of your concern,” he replies as he drops them onto his lap. “Who is Khan and why did he destroy your ship?”  
  
“He is an enemy of Starfleet…and he murdered my crew,” Jim says as if he’s remembering for the first time. “He destroyed my ship right in front of me…there was nothing I could do.” Jim shudders at the memory of fire and ash and silence. “There was nothing I could do, but watch.”  
  
Vaako is unmoved. “Perhaps you weren’t quick to act.”  
  
“I got everyone killed,” Jim whimpers. “Just like he said I would.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“Admiral Pike.”  
  
Vaako makes a face. “And this Bones you insist I am,” he says. “What was he to you?”  
  
“ _Everything_ ,” Jim replies as his tears begin anew.


	2. decessus

Vaako does not ask any more questions nor Jim does not offer any answers.

Silence falls between them, only breaking when Vaako states orders to his crew.

“We are approaching the ship, my lord,” says the pilot from the front. 

In the dim light, Vaako nods. “Good,” he replies. “Is Cavan meeting us?”  
  
“Yes my lord,” the pilot answers. “As you ordered.”  
  
Leaning back into his seat, satisfied, Vaako addresses Jim as he pulls his gloves back on. “Cavan is a healer,” he explains. “The Orion traders have kept you drugged, which I find to be an unsavory method, but they are not one for common sense.” Jim remains silent in his seat, which he is certain does not go unnoticed by Vaako. “You will go through detoxification. I refuse to permit you to serve me while in an altered state. You should be grateful for this…not many masters would be so kind.”  
  
Before he can stop himself, Jim utters, “There is a rollicking kindness that looks like malice.”  
  
“Nietzsche,” Vaako comments, looking mildly surprised. He purses his lips together and furrows his brows, dwelling Jim’s words. “The Orions did not care to mention your quicksilver mind. Their loss is my gain.”  
  
Jim frowns. “I was trained to be a captain,” he tells Vaako. “Not your slave.”  
  
“It seems your luck has changed, Jim,” Vaako replies, smiling in amusement. 

The words are like a slap in the face and remind Jim of the things Khan told to him. He fights back the revulsion and sob yearning to escape and closes his eyes as the shuttle docks. 

“Come,” Vaako commands through the darkness. Jim blinks to find Vaako releasing the straps of his seat, looking on impatiently as he waits for him to stand. He bustles at Jim’s lack of coordination and reaches for his arm, cradling his elbow as he leads him out of the shuttle. “Ah Cavan,” Vaako says suddenly, startling Jim as they come down the ramp.  
  
“My lord,” greets a deep voice. It reminds Jim of Khan and sends a chill through his body. It’s an older man who stands at the base of the ramp. He has a cloud of white hair and tan skin where his crimson robes leave his hands uncovered. He observes Jim as well; his coal color eyes give him a once over before looking at Vaako. “Is this what you dragged me down here for? To show off your new toy?”

“The Orions kept him drugged,” Vaako grumbles. He pushes Jim forward, ignoring his gasp of surprise.   
  
Cavan leans in and grasps Jim’s jaw. He narrows his eyes at the dried Orion blood and bruise blossoming on his skin, but says nothing. “Constricted pupils…” he mutters before waving a knobby finger adorn with rings made of gold in front of Jim’s eyes, moving it slowly from side to side. Jim follows it. “Sluggish reaction,” Cavan continues, moving his hands down to Jim’s pulse. “A bit fast, but expected. When was your last dose, boy?”

When Jim doesn’t respond, Vaako squeezes his arm in warning. “Answer him,” he demands.  
  
Jim muses about how strange it is to be handled so impersonally. It’s the very opposite of Bones. “I don’t remember,” he stammers as Cavan pulls up his sleeve, uncovering the morbid constellation of needle marks on his skin.   
  
Cavan touches them. “I’d say last night,” he says to Vaako. He looks into Jim’s eyes again, reaching to peel back one of his lids.  
  
“He vomited before we boarded the shuttle,” Vaako adds.  
  
Frowning, Cavan lets go of Jim. “Then the drug is beginning to wear off. Those Orions are masters at making them potent; I suspect it’s a way to keep their cargo in line. You must want him to be sober before he warms your bed.”  
  
“It would be preferred,” Vaako states.  
  
Cavan shrugs. “I’m sure he would prefer not to be a slave, but…” his voice trails off as he sighs. It’s the first overture of sympathy Jim has received since the _Enterprise’s_ destruction. “He will be unwell; I don’t know for how long.”  
  
“I am a patient man,” Vaako says darkly.  
  
Jim doubles over as Cavan is about to reply. While his stomach cramps, bile pushes its way up his throat until he vomits on the ramp. He falls to his hands and knees, trembling as another wave of nausea overcomes him. All that comes up is nothing more than spittle with red flecks.

“Have my assistant meet us in Lord Vaako’s quarters,” Cavan says to a soldier as he kneels next to Jim. “And hurry!”  
  
“I have other business to attend to,” Vaako announces with disinterest. “Be sure that someone bathes and grooms him. I will not have such a filthy creature in my presence.”  
  
Panic sweeps through Jim as he feels Vaako’s robes brush by him. He reaches out and grasps the ends of them; his grip is weak, but it’s enough to get Vaako’s attention as well as the soldiers. They surround him and point the sharp ends of their staffs at Jim, waiting to strike. 

“Don’t…” Jim rasps. He looks up at Vaako with fear written all over his face. “Don’t leave me.” His plea is met with a cold, unfeeling stare. “Please. Please Bones…” Jim notices Vaako nodding, briefly filling him with hope that he will accompany Jim and Cavan. It dies as quickly as it came; the blunt end of a soldier’s staff catches Jim in the temple. Pain explodes in his head and sends him to the ground.   
  
Vaako stands over him and sneers, “Know your place _and_ your master. Take him to my quarters.”  
  
Someone attempts to pull Jim to his feet as Vaako exits the shuttle bay. As he disappears from sight, Jim loses consciousness. 

 

* * *

  
When Vaako walks through the doors of his quarters, it’s late.

Lights burn low while the scent of medicine and sickness fills the air along with Cavan and his assistant’s bickering. Rolling his eyes, Vaako removes his armor and stretches once the additional weight is gone. After all these years as a Necromonger, he thought he would become used to the unform’s heaviness—it’s nearly his second skin after all. An attendant comes to retrieve it for polishing and leaves without a word. 

Perhaps Jim will be the one to tend to his armor once he is well, though Vaako doubts that the younger man has the patience for such things. He seems too sharp-witted for mundane activities and with those shocking blue eyes and handsome features, he will make a much better pleasure slave than a maid. 

Vaako makes his way to the study where the healers have settled Jim for the duration of his treatment. Malvolio, the assistant, greets him as he carries a bowl. “My lord, you are here.”  
  
“How is he?” he asks.  
  
“Resting, my lord,” Malvolio replies. Smiling, he gestures to the bowl. “I must refill this with fresh water.”  
  
Vaako beckons him to leave with a wave of his hand. He stands behind the chaise that’s been pushed to the center of the room. At least the healers had the common sense to cover the piece of furniture with protective blankets should Jim vomit once more or worse. 

“It would be good if your soldiers had the decency not to give a sick man a concussion,” Cavan growls without turning around.  
  
Vaako flares his nostrils. “He was being a nuisance,” he says.  
  
“He was _frightened_ ,” Cavan snaps as he shifts around, frowning. His features darken in anger. He turns his attention back to his patient. “As anyone would be.”  
  
Vaako comes closer. “Fear is a weakness.” He notices how Jim twitches with unconscious movement and allows his gaze to take in the younger man’s body, which he is pleased to discover is a fine form. His skin has been scrubbed clean while someone has gone to the trouble of shaving his face, revealing a cluster of scars on his chin. A groan escapes through his parted, chapped lips. Vaako imagines what they will look like once Jim is well, how full and lush they will be as he slots their mouths together. Despite the miserable condition Vaako found him in, Jim’s beauty shines. 

“He cleans up well,” Vaako comments.  
  
Cavan snorts in reply. “He was not bathed for your benefit!” the old man snaps as he dabs Jim’s face with a cloth to soak up the sweat running from his temples. “This boy has been mistreated and is ill as a result.”  
  
Malvolio returns, setting down the bowl of fresh water and handing Cavan a clean towel. “My lord healer,” he says.  
  
“Thank you Malvolio,” Cavan replies as he trades towels and goes back to dabbing Jim’s forehead.  
  
“Will he live?” Vaako asks.  
  
Cavan contemplates the question before answering. “His recovery will not be an easy one and he will require much rest before you use him for whatever purposes you have in mind. This slave of yours is a stubborn one and he will live,” he replies. 

The assessment is not the most ideal, but it suits Vaako well enough; he is a patient man besides. Jim’s forehead creases at the unfamiliar sounds around him, causing Jim to whimper.

Cavan hushes him and gently pets his sweaty hair. “Why did he call you Bones?” he asks.  
  
Vaako frowns. “I do not know,” he lies.  
  
“I’m not surprised. You are not one to go out of your way to make new friends.”  
  
“I am not one to go out of my way to make new enemies either,” Vaako hisses.  
  
Cavan shrugs. “You sure as hell made an enemy out of your wife.”  
  
“She’s dead so what does that matter?”  
  
Cavan reaches for his tray and picks up a hypospray. “I see why you chose this one. He is nothing like the Dame.”  
  
“He has a cock, for one thing,” Vaako retorts.  
  
Cavan shakes his head while Malvolio bites back laughter. Cavan glares at him. “I need another blanket. Go.”  
  
The young man scurries out of the room. “He thought I was amusing,” Vaako says.  
  
“He is young and an idiot. His sense of humor is that of a child!” Cavan replies. “And that is not what I meant, my lord.”  
  
Vaako snarls. “What did you mean then, old man?”  
  
“While this young man and the former Dame Vaako are pretty things, this one will be loyal to you,” he says, arching his brow. “Unlike your wife.”  
  
“I am his master,” Vaako states.  
  
“Even slaves have a mind of their own,” Cavan reminds him. “Do not discount him merely as a plaything and, perhaps, he will surprise you.”  
  
Vaako laughs. “He _already_ has surprised me, Cavan,” he replies. “He has the force of a character like a warrior and I enjoy that in my bedchamber.”  
  
“Forcing him to pleasure you will not breed loyalty,” Cavan snaps.  
  
Vaako stops laughing and frowns. “I _will not_ force him,” he fires back, insulted. “What do you take me for? A barbarian?”  
  
Cavan shrugs his answer.  
  
“If he wants to warm my bed, so be it. If not, we can make use of his other talents,” Vaako continues. “You _know_ I would never do such a thing.”  
  
“It’s just as well that you choose to treat him gently,” Cavan sighs as he reaches to move Jim’s outstretched arm. “Look here.”  
  
Vaako leans in, following the old man’s finger towards a red, livid mark on the side of Jim’s rib cage. He raises a brow and steps closer, squatting to get a better look. It’s not a mark, but a brand done in digital ink; precise and impossible to remove. The letter’s shape is primitive and messy, probably done to inflict pain. Vaako flashes back to the shuttle ride as Jim told him that Khan destroyed his ship. He dismissed it as a drug-fueled hallucination, but now Vaako wonders. “It doesn’t look like an Orion brand,” he comments.  
  
“I agree,” Cavan says. “Now _out_ with you. I have work to do in here and if you see Malvolio, tell him to hurry back.”  
  
Vaako is about to make a sharp retort of how this is _his quarters_ and does not have to take orders from Cavan, but he knows better. Casting one last glance at Jim before departing, he muses about how the young man ended up in the hands of Orion slave traders in the first place.

 

* * *

  
His musings do not last beyond the first night that Jim is on board the Necromonger ship.

Vaako is a busy man who has many duties and obligations that require his attention more than a strung-out Terran pleasure slave. He goes about his business, staying clear of his quarters and away from the agonized moaning and sounds of Jim retching penetrating through the walls. Cavan and his entourage of healers are present, besides. They come and go, always with a solemn expression and their arms filled with medical supplies or soiled linens. 

Updates on Jim’s condition are delivered by a trembling apprentice healer. She speaks so quietly that Vaako has to strain to hear and flushes bright pink when he dismisses her with a thank you.  
  
When he does go back, it’s late at night and his quarters are filled the low murmur of healers watching over Jim as he recovers. They provide him with nourishment and physical comforts to ease his ailments. Once or twice, Vaako has gone to observe their activity where he stands off to side, out of everyone’s way so they can work in peace. Jim’s usually resting, though tonight he’s awake when Vaako comes to check on him. He feels that Jim’s barely lucid state hardly counts as being conscious. Vaako notices his slave’s pale, clammy skin and the dark circles under his eyes that grow large with each passing day.

“Itches,” Jim slurs as he rubs his arm. The healer next to him nods as she places a cloth on his forehead. to a healer as he rubs his arm with his hand.  
  
“It will pass,” she assures.  
  
Vaako watches Jim close his eyes and grimace. He squirms in increments, becoming more agitated as the minutes tick on. “Make it stop,” he pleas, desperately.  
  
“It will pass,” the healer repeats as she touches his hand and eases it away from his abraded bicep. “Try to rest.”  
  
A strangled cry escapes through Jim’s chapped lips as he weakly fights against the healer. In his delerious state, he is quickly overpowered by her causing him to sob. His entire face collapses in defeat, turning red as tears cascade down his cheeks. “Please,” he whimpers. “Please make it stop.”   
  
Vaako clears his throat, making his presence known. The healer turns her head and nods, beckoning him to enter. “My lord,” she says in greeting before turning her attention back to Jim, gently pressing the cloth against his forehead.   
  
Jim shifts under her touch, turning his face away. “They’re all over me!” he cries. 

Vaako watches as Jim starts digging his fingernails into his skin, scratching himself. The healer takes his hand and lowers it to his side where she rubs her thumb over his knuckles. She whispers to him, trying to ease his discomfort. 

“No,” Jim whines as he squirms on the chaise, turning towards Vaako. With his eyes screwed shut, tears still fall and wet his lashes and cheeks. “No…they’re all over me. I can feel them! Do _something_!”  
  
The healer is about to speak when Vaako asks, “What is he talking about?”  
  
“He is hallucinating,” she answers, trying to keep her voice low. “It is a symptom of withdrawal.”  
  
Vaako frowns. “Can’t you give him something to alleviate it?”  
  
“A sedative would help,” she says. “But is my understanding that you refuse to allow one to be administered.”  
  
Vaako narrows his eyes but says nothing of her candor; it’s rare when someone challenges his authority and even rarer when he respects it. He turns his gaze to Jim, who continues to sob. “I did not want him to trade one addiction for another.”  
  
“Bones,” Jim whispers. His bloodshot gaze burns brightly as he stares at Vaako. A ghost of a smile tugs at his lips, softening his entire face. “Bones…you’re here.”  
  
The healer sees that Vaako is about to speak when she rises and takes him aside as she looks to Jim. “Give us a moment, James, and he will visit with you,” she assures with a serene smile. She turns back to Vaako and explains, quietly, “He has been hallucinating people from his old life. Cavan mentioned that he referred to you as Bones.”  
  
“He has,” Vaako replies. “I have explained to him that we are not the same person.”  
  
She nods in understanding. “Perhaps it would be best if you were to merely pretend,” she suggests, green eyes sparkling. She holds up a hand before Vaako can even protest. “My lord, he is ill and has suffered greatly. If you do this thing, it will be a kindness that he will appreciate once he’s lucid. It will breed a more loyal servant.”  
  
“He may vex me for it once he is well,” Vaako counters.  
  
The healer shrugs as Jim calls out to him. She raises her brows in silent questioning before Vaako sighs and gives in, turning back to Jim. “I am here,” he says walking over to the chaise and taking the seat once occupied by the healer. As he makes himself comfortable, Vaako hears her departing the room, probably in search for more medicine.  
  
Jim’s smile widens. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he whispers. “I thought you were gone.”

“Only momentarily,” Vaako replies. He reaches for the cloth the healer left behind and picks it up. It’s cool enough for Jim’s forehead, which he’s surprised to find is hot to the touch despite the clamminess of his skin. “Why would you think that?” he asks.  
  
With a relieved sigh, Jim closes his eyes. “I saw what he did,” he answers. “I saw what Khan did to the ship. He made me watch and I could hear your screams over the comm…and I thought I lost you. I thought I lost everyone…that’s what Spock told me.”  
  
“Spock told you?” Vaako asks, choosing his words carefully. He has no idea who this person is and decides that asking Jim could lead to disaster. Instead, he plays along despite how uncomfortable it makes Vaako feel. “When?”  
  
Jim’s smile fades as hre opens his eyes. “Last night,” he replies as tears brighten his eyes. “When you weren’t here.”  
  
“Oh,” Vaako says, watching as a tear falls down the side of Jim’s face and disappears into the pillow. The younger man’s uninhibited display of emotion makes him uncomfortable as it would to any Necromonger. They are taught to keep theirs at bay and to reserve them for their doctrine. “What did else did he tell you?”  
  
“That Chris was right,” Jim says softly, turning away. “That my judgment was compromised and I shouldn’t have been allowed to go after Khan. I should have listened to everyone’s concerns…I shouldn’t have been so blinded by my anger…”  
  
Confused, Vaako hums in agreement. “Sometimes anger is a good motivator.”  
  
“I was so stupid,” he cries. Grief tugs at his face, pulling each feature into tense, unnatural lines. “Bones, I was so stupid…I didn’t know what I was doing…” Jim turns back to him, his cheeks wet with tears. “I killed them. I killed all of them!”  
  
“You didn’t pull the trigger.”  
  
“ _I_ killed  _you_ ,” Jim confesses through trembling lips. Gods, how beautiful he looks in his sadness! “Bones, how can you even look at me?”  
  
“What happened wasn’t your fault,” Vaako says, though he is unsure if this is true. If it appeases his slave’s mind and aids his recovery, so be it. 

The healer enters the room with fresh linens, looking pleased that Vaako has been able to provide Jim with comfort, however little it is. She bows her head at him and smiles.   
  
“Bones,” Jim calls, weakly. When Vaako looks at him, he notices that Jim looks like he may sleep very soon. “I want to tell you something.”  
  
Vaako nods. “What is that?” he asks.  
  
“I never got to tell you how much I loved you,” Jim says quietly. Vaako feels his breath catch in his throat while Jim blinks and tries to keep the tantalizing pull of sleep at bay. “I loved you so much, Bones. More than anything. I’m sorry I never told you.”  
  
The healer steps in and gently places her hand on Jim’s shoulder. She squeezes it and moves to stroke his hair. “You are tired, James. Rest now.”  
  
With his stare focused on Vaako, Jim nods. His eyes droop lower and lower until they close. Whatever pain Jim was in when he was awake, his entire body is free of it and leaves him appearing softer. He doesn’t so much as flinch when the healer lays another blanket over him and checks his fever. “Perhaps he will sleep through the night,” the healer says to Vaako as she switches places with him. “It would do him some good.”  
  
“One could hope,” Vaako tells her.  
  
“I suppose one could,” she agrees.

 

* * *

  
He stays away from Jim for a full day; his words haunt Vaako’s every waking moment, even though they weren’t meant for Vaako. 

As he sits through meetings, Vaako dwells upon them. Nothing can distract him; not the activity on the bridge or the stars glittering in space. While he’s not jealous of his slave’s affections for a perfect stranger, Vaako admits to himself that Jim’s insistent claims of being a captain has truly peaked his curiosity.  
  
“My lord.” Toal stands by his side with his arms clasped behind his back. 

Vaako frowns at the formal greeting, especially from a trusted confidant. “We’ve spoken about this,” he grumbles.  
  
“We have,” Toal agrees, smirking. “Perhaps once more would suffice?”  
  
Vaako rolls his eyes as he rises from his seat. “Walk with me,” he says. “There is a matter of importance that I wish to speak to you about.” He doesn’t need to add the words _in private_ because Toal already knows. It’s difficult to find a person one can wholly trust amongst the Necromongers, but Vaako has gotten lucky. After all, it was Toal who had informed him of his former wife’s plan to assassinate him.  
  
They leave the bridge, walking towards the observation deck which is usually empty around this time and makes for a perfect place to talk. “How is that slave boy of yours?” Toal asks. “From what I heard, he is a pretty thing if you look past his unkempt state.”  
  
Vaako scowls. “He is making claims that I wish for you to check into,” he replies, quietly, as they enter the observation deck. He searches the area to ensure that they are truly alone.  
  
“Slaves make all sorts of outrageous claims,” Toal counters. He looks at one of his gloved hands, grinning smugly as usual. “How they aren’t truly slaves and there was a mistake…you will find that they learn their place soon enough, Siberius.”  
  
Vaako shakes his head. “Normally I would agree with you, friend, but he has not changed his story since entering detoxification.”  
  
“And what’s his story?”  
  
“He says that he was a captain of a Starfleet ship which was destroyed by a man named Khan. He was forced to watch,” Vaako explains.  
  
Toal presses his lips into a thin line. “It sounds like the delusional ranting of a strung out slave.”  
  
“I thought the very same,” Vaako tells him. “However, his story has remained unchanged despite his current state.”  
  
“Unchanged, you say? Perhaps it’s well-rehearsed.”  
  
“One would think that, but he is not lucid, Toal,” Vaako reasons as he paces. “He is hallucinating the dead and believes that insects are crawling on his skin, yet his story of how he was a captain and an enemy of his military destroyed his ship remains unchanged.”  
  
Toal raises a brow. “You are like to believe him, Siberius?”  
  
“Only if his story is the truth,” Vaako answers, pausing to stare out at the stars. “There is one more thing.”  
  
“What would that be?”  
  
“I would like you to have someone look into it. Get names, dates, any other information to confirm that my slave is telling the truth,” he says. “Discreetly, of course. If the Federation finds us lurking about…”  
  
“…it would be unsavory for the Necromongers,” Toal finishes. He bows his head in acknowledgment. “Of course, my friend.”  
  
Vaako smirks. “Thank you.”  
  
“Tell me,” Toal says, “what will you do if it turns out his story is the truth?”  
  
“The Federation more than likely believes that he, too, is dead, so there is nothing to be done. He will remain dead to them,” Vaako replies.  
  
Toal chuckles. “And his _corpse_ will warm your bed.”  
  
The rest of Vaako’s day is monotonous, which he is secretly relieved about. When he is able to return to his quarters, he heads towards his private chambers to seek a bit of quiet. Passing by the study, he hears Jim calling out to him. Not _him_ , exactly, but man whose ghost haunts his slave. His voice travels; while it’s still weak, it is stronger than it has been since Vaako purchased him. He turns towards Jim, staring at him from beyond the threshold.  
  
“Bones,” Jim rasps as a smile appears on his pale face. “You’re back.”  
  
Cavan sits beside him and applies a heating pad to his stomach. The old man doesn’t bother with acknowledging Vaako’s presence and goes about caring for his patient. “Is that better?” he asks Jim.  
  
While he stares at Vaako, Jim nods. Vaako steps forward, his armor catching the light and the hopeful expression on Jim’s face falls, replaced by confusion, then realization. “You…you…” Jim stammers. He looks stunned. “You look _just_ like him.”  
  
Vaako makes a noncommittal gesture. “You have mentioned,” he replies as he goes to the chaise and stands by Jim. “More than once.”

He watches Jim licks his chapped lips before his stare roams over Vaako, taking in every detail despite his weakened state. Vaako finds this intriguing; it opens up another side of Jim, one where Vaako can imagine the inner workings of his mind. Sharp like a dagger hidden under a coat. Quick like a man taught to think on his feet. Like the captain Jim claims to be. “It seems that sleep did you some good,” Vaako comments as he sets down his staff and leans it against a table.  
  
Jim watches him closely. “Why are you here?” he asks.  
  
“You called me in here,” Vaako replies. “I should be asking _you_.”  
  
“I thought you were someone else.”  
  
Vaako shrugs. “Bones.”  
  
“Don’t say his name,” Jim hisses before wincing. He grunts and closes his eyes.  
  
Cavan immediately springs to action. “Is it the cramping again?” he asks, carefully pulling back the linens as Jim nods in reply. “How bad is it, son?”  
  
“Bad,” Jim gasps as he curls into himself, twisting his body to his side. “Feeling sick again.”  
  
Cavan glances at Vaako. “Make yourself useful and grab the bowl would you?” he asks over Jim’s groans. 

Vaako reaches for the silver bowl and holds it under Jim’s chin without further prompting. A thin sheen of sweat appears on Jim’s forehead, adding to the unhealthy tinge to his skin and deepens as the young man vomits. Only watery bile comes up, followed by dry heaving that leaves Jim gasping for breath while tears run down his face.   
  
“Better out than in,” Cavan says, rubbing Jim’s back. He glances down towards the lower portion of his patient’s body and smiles. “And at least you didn’t shit yourself this time!”  
  
As he relaxes into the chaise, Jim moans. “Just my luck,” he grunts, closing his eyes.  
  
Vaako puts the bowl down and exchanges it for a damp cloth. He exchanges a look with Cavan, silently questioning if he is doing the right thing, and finds Cavan nodding. Carefully, he pats Jim’s cheeks before moving to his lips where Vaako wipes away spit and lets the cool fabric soothe Jim’s chapped mouth. When he soaks the cloth once more, he notices a tinge of blood in the water. Wringing it out, Vaako folds it across Jim’s forehead. “Has your stomach ailment passed?” he asks.  
  
A pair of tired eyes look at him. “Why do you even care?” Jim asks.  
  
“You are my slave and I care about your well-being,” Vaako answers. He pats the cloth against Jim’s forehead.  
  
Jim snorts angrily. “I bet your other slaves will say you are a gentle master because you order them to.”  
  
“You are my first and _only_ slave,” Vaako tells him. He sees the look of genuine shock on Jim’s face and shrugs. “You are surprised. Why?”  
  
“I thought you would have a harem at your service.”  
  
“You thought wrong,” Vaako says. He plunks the cloth into the water and relaxes into the chair. “I had a wife, not long ago. She is dead now.”  
  
Jim arches one of his thick brows and gets a glint of defiance in his eye. “You killed her, didn’t you?”  
  
“Only because she would have killed me first,” Vaako offers. “My former wife was an ambitious woman who created a legion of loyal followers and enemies alike. In the end, I had more people on my side.” 

Jim swallows but says nothing. Fear is written all over him as if Vaako would subject him to the same treatment of his wife. 

“You will not meet the same fate if you show me loyalty,” he says.  
  
“You mean if I do what you want…”  
  
Vaako leans forward, his hands on his armor-clad knees, and shakes his head. “As my slave, you will not be forced into sexual acts. I expect obedience, yes, but nothing that would cause you harm,” he explains. The fear eases, releasing the tension from Jim’s face, though not by much. “Such as the brand etched onto your side,” Vaako says, gesturing to red ink etched into Jim’s skin. “I would not partake in that type of barbaric practice.” 

Jim’s eyes flicker as he grabs the linens covering his torso and lifts them off his body. He cranes his head and uses his free hand to touch his side until his fingers, now trembling, come across the slightly raised skin. Jim gasps in disbelief as he traces over the mark.

“You did not know?” Vaako inquires.  
  
Jim looks up with tears in his eyes, his question answered. “Can you remove it?” he asks.  
  
“I cannot; it is digital ink,” Vaako replies.  
  
A sob fills the room. Jim bows his head as his hand covers the brand. Vaako watches as his shoulders shake with his cries, no longer caring if anyone can see or hear him. “Please go,” Jim finally chokes out, hiding his face. There is such anguish in his voice that Vaako does not counter it with a sharp reply. Instead, he rises from his seat and leaves, pausing for a moment to glance back at Jim from the doorway. Jim is hunched over, his arm still wrapped around his middle as he whimpers. 

Vaako feels a pang of sympathy for the young man as he leaves him, allowing Jim to deal with his misery in private. 

Not even ten steps from the doorway, Vaako hears Jim’s shout and the crashing of objects hitting the floor as they shatter.


	3. obitus

When Vaako reappears in the main room of his quarters, he only hears the hum of his ship rather than the constant flurry of activity coming from the room Jim and the healers occupy. 

Curious, he goes to the door and peeks inside where he finds the lights turned down low. One of the healers comes out with used linens in their arms and greets him with a nod. They’ve come become interchangeable at this point, so Vaako doesn’t go to the trouble of remembering their names. He makes out Jim on the chaise and enters the room quietly so to not disturbing the slave while avoiding another uncomfortable interaction with him. In truth, their last conversation haunted Vaako when he retired for the evening. He had seen the agony as it festered in Jim’s body language, long before his eyes began leaking tears and his sob rang out. 

It seems that for the moment Jim is at peace. His composure shows on his face, where tension and illness have left for a time. Seeing him like this makes Vaako wonder what other horrors were forced upon Jim and if the throes of unconsciousness keep them at bay.   
  
“He has been able to keep broth down,” the healer announces as she reenters the room. “This is a good sign.”  
  
Vaako nods. “It is,” he agrees.  
  
“Lord Healer Cavan mentioned that he was upset last night,” she says while unfolding a blanket and draping it over Jim. “It is difficult when one goes through detox; all of the bad memories become much clearer than before.”  
  
Vaako shifts uncomfortably; he feels responsible for Jim’s ill mood from the evening before despite it being unintentional. “There is a brand on his side,” he says. “Do not mention or draw attention to it. He is likely to get upset.”  
  
The healer nods. “Yes my lord,” she replies, her dark eyes flickering with curiosity. Vaako thinks she may steal a glance, but so long as Jim does not notice, he could care less of how she amuses herself.   
  
“I will be back later,” he tells her before departing.  
  
Midway through his day, Cavan appears with Malvolio by his side. The old man inclines his head as Vaako catches him out of his peripheral. “What is it?” he asks as he approaches the healers.  
  
While Malvolio looks frightened, Cavan steadfast and undaunted by Vaako. “He has been able to keep light meals down for nearly twelve hours,” the healer explains. “I believe that your slave is ready to be moved into more permanent accommodations.”  
  
“Very well,” Vaako says. “Have him quartered in the former Dame Vaako’s private room located next to mine. My staff will see to his material needs. I assume that you will appoint a healer to accompany him.”  
  
Cavan nods. “You are correct, my lord. He is still very weak and in need of constant monitoring.”  
  
“Lord Marshal,” interrupts a Necromonger and passes him a data tablet.  
  
Vaako scans over the information before turning his attention back to Cavan. “I must attend to this,” he says, apologetically.  
  
“We all have business to attend to,” Cavan sighs and goes to leave. 

 

* * *

  
When Vaako comes back for a short break, Jim is being bathed. He hears the sounds of water sloshing around the tub and the healer’s murmurs through the closed doors of the Dame’s former quarters. They spring open and the green-eyed healer passes through with used towels in her arms. “My lord,” she greets.  
  
Vaako nods. “How is he?”  
  
“Tired, but well” she replies as she adjusts the bundle. “James had a light meal before his bath and has not complained of any ailments. Would you like to see him once he’s been clothed and put to bed?”  
  
Vaako shakes his head. “I have other business to attend and Lord Healer Cavan inferred that he needs his rest.”  
  
“He has asked about you,” the healer tells him.  
  
“He has?”  
  
“Yes, my lord.” The healer’s lips twitch at Vaako’s surprise. “By name.”  
  
Vaako raises a brow. “Oh,” he says before pausing. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and clears his throat, wondering what could Jim want from him. His company? To curse him for forcing sobriety on him or the Orions who forced the drugs upon him? To once again plead his case that he is a Starfleet captain and that being sold into slavery was a grave mistake? Or, more disturbingly, perhaps Jim wants to look at Vaako’s face to see the image of a loved one who is no longer alive. 

“If my schedule permits it, I will try to make an appearance later in the evening,” Vaako states after some hesitation.   
  
The healer bows her head. “Yes, my lord. I will tell him.”  
  
The rest of his day is a flurry of Necromonger business that occupies his thoughts rather than allowing him to dwell on Jim. To have someone occupying his deceased wife’s chambers is a bit disconcerting. For a moment, Vaako believes she has returned from the dead just spite him. She had been a temperamental, devious woman. It came as no surprise when she demanded her own sleeping chambers for the sake of privacy. After she had been executed, Vaako ordered to have the decor stripped and replaced with something more suiting of his tastes before the room left unused for nearly five years. That is, until Jim’s arrival.

With a pneumonic hiss, the door opens. Malvolio is there with his slave, reading to himself while Jim sleeps in the large, canopied bed. For the first time in nearly a month, Jim has been dressed in a long-sleeved, indigo colored shirt. The shade suits his pale skin and will undoubtedly highlight his sapphire eyes because Jim is a beautiful creature; Vaako doubts there has never been a time that his slave has been anything but. “What news do you have?” Vaako asks quietly.  
  
Malvolio looks up and quickly sets the book down before standing. Vaako raises his hand, indicating that this meeting is informal. “He is settling in,” he whispers cheerfully. “Healer Edit fed him almost two hours ago and he has managed to keep it down.”  
  
“Which one is that?”  
  
Malvolio chuckles softly. “The female healer with green eyes. Aside from Lord Healer Cavan, she has been your slave’s primary caregiver.”  
  
“Ah,” Vaako says.   
  
“You may rouse him, if you wish,” Malvolio offers with a shrug of his shoulders. “I can step outside for a bit.”  
  
Vaako nods. “Yes. That would be much appreciated,” he says. “If you have not eaten, ask one of my attendants to prepare you a meal.”  
  
“Yes my lord,” Malvolio replies. “Thank you, my lord.” He practically skips out of the room, the door sliding shut behind the healer.  
  
“I was already awake,” Jim says, startling Vaako. Turning to him, he watches as Jim’s eyes blink open.

“If I woke you upon coming into your room, it was not my intention,” Vaako replies.  
  
Jim pushes himself to his elbows, the effort leaving him trembling as he collapses against the pillows with a grunt. When Vaako takes a step forward to offer assistance, Jim waves him away. “I’m fine,” he insists.  
  
“You are as weak as a newborn foal,” Vaako counters, chuckling at the slave’s stubbornness. “I have no doubts that if you tried leaving this bed, you would end up on your ass.” The haunted glint that seeps into Jim’s eyes cuts his laugh short. His irises well with tears, shining brightly like the Orion slave trader had boasted. Perhaps this is what the foul man had in mind when he told Vaako.  
  
“You’re _nothing_ like _him_ ,” Jim whispers. He wipes his face with his sleeve and sniffles. “You’re nothing like him and then you say or do something…and it’s like you’re the same person.” He breaks, whimpering as tears wet his cheeks. 

The emotional display surprises Vaako, leading him to wonder how long it’s been since his slave has been able to realize the gravity of his circumstances. His grief is certainly real enough as Jim can hardly say Bones’ name without it provoking grief or anger. Vaako goes to the bedside table where a neatly folded stack of handkerchiefs has been left behind. He picks one up and hands it to Jim.  
  
He stares at Vaako and the handkerchief. “Why are you doing this?” Jim demands.  
  
“If you’d rather have snot dripping down your face like a disobedient child, be my guest,” Vaako replies impatiently.  
  
Jim’s expression hardens as he swipes the handkerchief and begins cleaning himself up. “I’m not a child,” he mutters.  
  
“You look much better from the last time we saw one another,” Vaako observes, quickly changing the subject.  
  
“I feel like shit.”  
  
“The color is returning to your complexion,” Vaako says. He meets Jim’s glare and smirks. “You look less like death warmed over.”  
  
Jim’s expression deepens as well as the flush of anger on the tops of his cheeks. “I suppose _you_  would know what that looks like,” he snaps. “Being a Necromonger and all.”  
  
“So you’ve heard of us?” Vaako asks, impressed.  
  
Jim nods. “All bad things,” he replies.  
  
“Most of which are untrue,” Vaako says. “As you’ve seen for yourself, not all of us are death mongers who thrill on bloodshed and war. Some of us, myself included, are strategists and pick our battles. We are not Klingons, after all.”  
  
Jim flinches and it appears that Vaako has struck a nerve without meaning to. He expects another biting remark or perhaps a snarl, but receives none. It seems that the fight that he observed in the Orion slave dungeons and sporadically while Jim has been on the ship has left temporarily. 

Jim sinks back into the pillows. “What do you want with me?” he asks defeatedly.  
  
“I have yet to decide,” Vaako says with honesty, searching Jim’s face.  
  
“If it’s Federation secrets you want, I wasn’t privy to the ones that would be useful to you,” Jim tells him, keeping his head down. “They probably won’t believe that I’m alive if it’s a ransom you’re after…and even then, they may not bother paying it.”  
  
Vaako raises a brow. “And why is that, little dove?” He chuckles when Jim’s glare reappears and intensifies. “You claim to be a captain, after all. Surely you must be important to them.”  
  
“I _am_ a captain,” Jim hisses. “Have one of your soldiers go check the Federation news feeds if you don’t believe me!”  
  
“I already have,” Vaako replies. He does not need to tell Jim that Toal has yet to give him the report because it only lead to more pleading.  
  
Jim’s shoulders slump as a heavy sigh escapes through his lips. “I have nothing that you could possibly want.”  
  
“You have your mind,” Vaako says. “And if you are willing, your body.”  
  
Jim laughs. “I’m your slave and usually they don’t get a say in what happens to them.”  
  
“There is a difference between submission and coercion,” Vaako retorts sharply. “Whatever befell you before you came into my possession was done against your will. That will not happen here, not with me as your master.”  
  
“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” Jim snorts. He rolls his eyes in disbelief.  
  
Vaako shakes his head. “I assure you I am not.” He crosses his arms over his armor-covered chest. “Just because I dominate you does not mean that I force you into acts just for my enjoyment.”  
  
“Isn’t that the point?” Jim asks. “To have a slave please you?”  
  
“No, it is not. For me to _consensually_ dominate is to control the scenario of which my submissive experiences pleasure,” Vaako explains.

It goes unsaid that the very idea of having a Starfleet captain willingly submitting to him is arousing and more satisfying than forcing him. Though the idea of Jim on his knees decked out in naught but a collar while he looks up at Vaako with his wide, blue eyes is a very appealing picture. “Some of it is controlling their reactions or seeing how much they can take,” he continues. “There is an art of it, you see, Jim. The beauty of it isn’t breaking, but pushing and watching it build and rebuild itself under the right circumstances.” He lets his speech sink in for a moment while he gauges Jim’s reaction. “We would have safewords in place for your comfort and control. Red for stop, yellow for pause or slow down, and green for go.”  
  
“Prove it,” Jim rasps as he looks up in defiance.  
  
Vaako smirks. “Prove it?”  
  
“Yes,” Jim says, jutting out his chin. “Prove it.”  
  
“This isn’t a game, James,” Vaako warns as he towers over the younger man. He reaches out and caresses the curve of Jim’s jaw. He admires the other man’s features as well as his imperfections and how Jim shivers under his touch. It is not one of fear, but anticipation as evident by the hot breaths that come through Jim’s parted lips. Vaako traces his skin, feeling the stubble that pricks him until he cradles his slave’s chin. Jim’s blue eyes stare at him from beneath a fan of dark lashes, their shade so lovely that Vaako images his wife would envy them and demand they be taken from the boy’s skull. 

And those lips…what he could do to them. Vaako leans closer, his lips twitching as Jim’s tongue flicks out to wet his own. He is closing the space between them, feeling the heat of Jim’s breath against his lips, so close…  
  
…so achingly close.  
  
“Red,” Jim mutters.  
  
Vaako halts and stares at Jim for a moment before pulling back. He straightens himself and steps back, putting distances between them. “Goodnight James,” he says to the wide-eyed man on the bed and turns to leave. 

He goes to the door that connects their rooms and as it slides shut, he hears the surprised gasp tumbling from Jim’s lips.

 

* * *

  
Jim’s days are filled with much-needed sleep and light meals that do not turn his stomach.

He is annoyed to find his energy depleted and resigns himself to listen to the healer, Edit, who treats him like an equal rather than a broken thing. Each time he opens his eyes, he half expects to find himself back in his dank cell and the Orion slave traders lurking outside.

The smells of rancid water and rotten hay assault his nostrils, making his stomach lurch until he realizes where he is. Or there are the other times where he can hear _his_ voice whispering in his ear, the deep baritone uttering harsh and unforgiving words. Jim can feel his hands on his body and sense his stink all around him, causing him to gag as he wakes up.  
  
The smell is worse this time and Jim swears he feels the bite of Khan’s nails in his skin as he wakes up with a scream on his tongue. He sits straight up, his head spinning and his stomach starting to rebel. He’s not on the _Vengeance_ , but in his room on the Necromonger ship. He sees the burgundy, gray, and black color scheme and heavily crafted furniture surrounding him.  
  
“Do you know yourself?” Edit asks.  
  
Jim nods, not trusting himself to speak. His eyes are darting around, surveying the room and mapping it out in his head.  
  
Edit passes him a cup of water, which Jim brushes away with a trembling hand. “It will help,” she urges.  
  
“No,” he says, not caring that his voice trembles. He leans back into the pillows and turning towards the healer. “I’m fine.”  
  
“If you insist,” she replies gently.  
  
The burst of energy is fleeting and Jim finds himself falling asleep before he can stop it. His world fades to a single point, a pale version of a much-beloved face staring at him from across the room before his eyes slip shut. 

He dreams this time, the nightmares temporarily at bay. Vaako is there, leaning over him and watching him. He keeps himself just within reach of Jim, his lips curling into a pale version of a smile when he tries to grab the Necromonger’s arm. Jim can hear Vaako whispering, something that sounds vaguely like _not yet_.  
  
_When?_ Jim asks, watching Vaako’s figure receding into darkness.  
  
He never answers and just smiles wider before Jim sinks deeper into slumber and remembers no more.  
  
The next time he wakes, the lights in his room have been dimmed. As Jim comes back to himself, he realizes that he has been left alone. With a yawn, he rolls himself over from his side to his back. He turns his head, staring at the open door that leads to Vaako’s rooms.

The lights are on and he can hear the Necromonger speaking to an attendant in a low voice. “What about your slave, my lord?” the attendant asks.  
  
The sound of heavy footsteps echoes across the threshold followed by Vaako’s elongated shadow spilling over the comforter of the bed. “Yes,” he says, seeing that Jim is awake. “Be mindful of Lord Healer Cavan’s instructions and have another setting placed at the table. He will be dining with me this evening.”  
  
“Yes my lord,” the attendant replies, their face unseen as they exit Vaako’s room.  
  
Vaako orders the lights on. “You have decided to awaken,” he states.  
  
“For now,” Jim says.  
  
“Healer Edit has conveyed to me that you tire easily and not to overtax you while you’re recovering,” Vaako tells him as he comes into the room. The way his lips are set in a thin line and how his eyebrows arch with a dark shade of mirth reminds Jim of Bones. His movements are more composed and deliberate as he goes to stand at the end of the bed, watching Jim with dark, calculating eyes. “You must be hungry,” Vaako says, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “I have taken the liberty to have your meal brought into my dining room.”  
  
Jim nods. “I heard,” he admits.  
  
“You have a habit of overhearing things,” Vaako observes. “Perhaps this is why you ended up in an Orion slave trader’s cell?”  
  
He frowns, biting his tongue because he’s fairly certain that Vaako could snap him in two without breaking a sweat. His silence seems to annoy the Necromonger, who narrows his eyes at Jim.  
  
“One day you will tell me,” he continues. “When you are ready.”  
  
“What happens if I don’t want to?” Jim mutters sourly.  
  
Vaako shrugs his shoulder with the same casual elegance that Bones did. “Then you never tell me and I just make assumptions that will surely annoy you,” he replies. He tilts his head with one brow quirked as if he sees something that Jim does not. “I have business to attend to before we dine. I will have one of my attendants come to assist you when our meal is ready.”  
  
“I can make it on my own,” Jim snaps as Vaako walks towards the door.  
  
Vaako chuckles, a sound like the low rumble of thunder. “I welcome you to try, little dove,” he counters mockingly. “If you should decide that you need assistance, just shout.” Vaako leaves, his footsteps walking further and further away from Jim who remains in his bed. Jim narrows his eyes in the direction that his master has gone, grumbling to himself as he starts the tedious process of getting himself out of bed.

Jim narrows his eyes in the direction that his master has gone, grumbling to himself as he starts the tedious process of getting himself out of bed. He doesn’t want to admit that he needs help as his limbs shake from exertion. Jim swallows a deep breath as he crawls to the edge of the mattress and peels the blankets off his body. The black material of his sleep pants is bunched uncomfortably around his legs. He begins to fuss with them, smoothing the fabric down, when he notices a shadow out of the corner of his eye. He cranes his head, to see a man traveling in front of the threshold, moving towards the direction Vaako headed. His gut twists uncomfortably, indicating that something is wrong, though Jim can’t explain why. He stubbornly crawls across the mattress, despite his body’s protests, and swings his legs over the edge. 

He stubbornly crawls across the mattress, despite his body’s protests, and swings his legs over the edge. His feet hit the rug, the fibers tickling his skin as he wobbly stands up. Jim holds onto the bedpost, moving in slow increments towards the next piece of furniture. He can hear Bones complaining as he calls calling Jim an idiot, a reprobate, a cornfed moron, though it does not deter him as he makes his way into Vaako’s chambers. Sweat beads at his upper lip and his temples and starts to pool at the small of his back. Jim pitches forward, grabbing the door frame with a hiss.

He fights the overwhelming need to collapse into a heap on the floor and continues to walk, balancing precariously on weak legs. “Come on,” he grunts to himself. “Come on…you’ve been through worse.”  
  
Vaako’s chambers are identical to his own, save for the variety of weapons that hang on the walls or are mounted on stands. His eyes fall onto a bookshelf made of dark wood, polished so that Jim can practically see his own reflection and a metal stand that sits empty. 

Adrenaline, a familiar friend, kicks in as Jim sprints towards Vaako’s voice. His body pulses with panic and fight as he turns a corner. Behind Vaako is a man who wears the customary gold robes that Jim has seen on the attendants, but this is no attendant. They hold a covered tray with scar-covered arms, where a blade glimmers. Jim watches in slow motion as Vaako beckons the attendant to set the tray down as he continues with his reading. The rogue attendant does not say a word as he slips the dagger out from under the cloth and holds the intricately carved handle.

Jim watches in slow motion as Vaako beckons the attendant to set the tray down as he continues with his reading. The rogue attendant does not say a word as he slips the dagger out from under the cloth and holds the intricately carved handle.“No!” Jim shouts as he runs across the room and knocks the attendant to the floor.  
  
They both land with a heavy thud over the sound of metal scraping against the floor as the dagger slides and before coming to a halt. The assassin snarls at Jim and dives towards the dagger. Jim grabs him by the ankles, yanking him back and climbing over him to grab the weapon. He cries out from the sharp stab of an elbow to the ribs, followed by a fist to his nose. His eyes tear up as blood drips down his face, pooling on the material of his shirt. Jim spins around, slamming his fist into the assassin’s stomach, followed by another. They crash into a table, shattering the wood with the weight of their bodies, and scramble to overthrow the other on the ground. Jim’s ears are roaring with blood as his fists slams into the assassin’s jaw, throbbing in protest and bleeding as skin breaks.  
  
“Damn you!” the assassin shrieks, propelling Jim off of him with a kick to the stomach.  
  
Jim hits the wall, the air momentarily leaving his lungs in painful force and leaving his vision skirting around darkness. That’s when he feels the hilt of the dagger at his fingertips and notices the assassin rushing towards him, yelling. He thrusts up, catching the assassin right in the heart and destroying the organ. Jim looks to see the life drain from the man’s bugged eyes and a death rattle pass through his blood-stained mouth before the assassin goes limp. Jim pushes the corpse off of him, shakily rising to his feet with the dagger in hand. His hand is stained crimson where it doesn’t drip onto the floors.  
  
“My god,” says a voice in awe.  
  
He looks up, dazed, and sees that Vaako is standing across from him with a small army of his Necromongers, each of them staring at Jim like he’s an exotic life form. Jim squeezes the hilt, narrowing his eyes and ready to fight.  
  
“It’s all right,” Vaako tells him, stepping forward and avoiding the mess Jim and the dead assassin have made of his chambers. Jim swallows, getting into his sparring stance he remembers from the Academy. Vaako frowns and turns back towards his men. “Stand down,” he orders. “And fetch Lord Header Cavan at once.” He looks at Jim, holding his hands up as a sign of peace. “James,” he says. “It’s all right; you can put down the dagger.”  
  
“He was going to kill you,” Jim rasps.  
  
“Yes, I know,” Vaako says, taking a step closer. “You stopped him.”  
  
Jim nods absently, feeling his sudden surge of energy dwindling rapidly. He drops the dagger, ignoring the sound it makes as he surveys the aftermath of chaos around him. “Sorry about the mess,” he tells Vaako. 

Before Vaako has the chance to respond, Jim crumbles to the floor.


	4. libitina

Blood stains the floor where the assassin’s corpse lies, his unseeing eyes staring up at the ceiling while a red halo surrounds his body.

The worst of it gathers over his heart, where Jim had stabbed him using Vaako’s dagger. Such incidents used to be normal within the Necromonger fleet and Vaako is no stranger to seeing dead bodies. It was part of his life and perhaps, it bothered him when he was a green lad who could barely hold up a Necro Spear.   
  
“He was one of the Dame’s pets,” Toal tells him as he comes to stand at Vaako’s side. “At least one of the few left alive. I could investigate to see where his trail began and perhaps catch a few more flies.”  
  
Vaako waves his hand, motioning for two soldiers to take the body and watches as it’s removed from his quarters. Crossing his arms over his chest, he shakes his head. “It is not necessary,” Vaako tells him. “I believe he acted alone, so let it be done.”  
  
“Yes my lord,” Toal says, grinning when Vaako shoots him a glare.  
  
They watch his attendants begin to quietly clean up the mess, keeping their eyes averted. Blood gets mopped up while fragments of broken furniture are swept away. The room returns to some sort of semblance of the way it was before. Except the evening’s aftermath leaves invisible traces and, at least to Vaako, everything is different now.  
  
“This is probably a bad time to bring it up,” Toal says hesitantly, holding a tablet in his hand. “Your slave boy was telling the truth.”  
  
Vaako stares at him before taking the tablet and scanning over its contents.  
  
“His name is Captain James Tiberius Kirk,” Toal explains. “He is the youngest captain to ever be appointed in Starfleet history. His vessel, the _USS Enterprise_ , was destroyed nearly a year ago by a Federation fugitive named John Harrison. All on board perished.”  
  
He remembers Jim referring to Harrison as Khan, bringing an image of the brand carved into young man’s side by this stranger’s. His eyes fall on a holo photo; His slave isn’t difficult to recognize, though the easy grin causes Vaako to do a double take. Jim wears a grey uniform, something to be at a Terran ceremony of some sort. His hair is shorter and a shade of gold that comes from long hours of natural sunlight; it makes his eyes gleam even more than they already do in person. Vaako notices is that Jim appears genuinely happy, not haunted as he does now. 

Next to him is a man with features similar to his own, save for this man’s tanned skin and hazel-green eyes. A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips as if he is uncomfortable with having to get his picture taken. It appears to Vaako that his mirror image does it for Jim’s sake.  
  
“That is Doctor Leonard McCoy,” Toal says as he glances over Vaako’s shoulder. “He has a passing resemblance to you…if you were better groomed and saw sunlight.”  
  
Vaako snorts and rolls his eyes. “So this is Bones,” he comments.  
  
“So it is,” Toal agrees. “It is easy to see why he confused the two of you while he was ill.”  
  
“Yes,” Vaako says. “I can see why.”  
  
Toal leans closer. “Starfleet believes your slave boy to be deceased and the fugitive Harrison has disappeared into the Neutral Zone. We picked up rumors that the Klingons may be offering him sanctuary and Starfleet seems to be most unhappy about it.”  
  
“Are they on the verge of war?” Vaako asks.  
  
Toal shrugs. “Klingons are always itching for a fight, but Starfleet has tactics where Klingons have boldness. They would want proof that Harrison is there before they attack.”  
  
“Do not show anyone this,” Vaako says as he hands the tablet back to Toal. “I do not want word getting out about my slave’s origins especially after this evening’s excitement.”  
  
Toal bows his head. “Of course,” he replies as he types in a few commands to lock the data. “I must admit that I was impressed with his willingness to protect you.”  
  
“We have Leonard McCoy’s memory to thank for that,” Vaako tells him.  
  
“True,” Toal agrees.  
  
Vaako goes to check on Jim when he hears Toal snickering. “What is it?” he asks.  
  
“His fighting technique, on the other hand, could use some work,” Toal quips.  
  
Vaako pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I need him to act as my watchdog.” Much to his chagrin, Toal’s laughter echoes as his comrade leaves his quarters. He goes to Jim’s chambers to check on his slave’s condition, where Jim notices as soon as he sets foot inside. 

A tired—perhaps even a bit sad—smile appears on his face. It matches the exhaustion dulling his eyes. “Sorry about the table,” he slurs.  
  
“Hush,” Cavan chastises as he tilts Jim’s face back towards him. “You’re lucky you didn’t break your nose.”  
  
Jim rolls his eyes and bats Cavan’s away from him. “Stop poking me,” he mutters. “‘m tired.”  
  
“You can rest in a moment, young man,” Cavan retorts. “Now look at my finger and follow it with just your eyes. I swear you were easier when you were barely conscious.”  
  
Vaako watches as Jim rebels and turns his head away from the healer, who grunts in frustration. Jim folds his arms over his chest and resolutely refuses to comply; the whole spectacle would be amusing if the circumstances leading to it weren’t so dark.  
  
“He seems to be just fine,” Vaako remarks.  
  
Cavan glares at him. “He _has_ overtaxed himself, which I specifically told him _not_ to do!” He turns back to Jim, whose moves his head away.  
  
“Had he listened to you, there would have been a very good chance that I would have been in a body bag,” Vaako replies solemnly.  
  
Cavan does not reply as he continues to inspect his patient, despite Jim’s refusal. With his injuries having been cleaned up, it’s easy to spot the beginnings of bruising on the other man’s face. “I heard a rumor hat it was one of the Dame’s creatures,” Cavan states, breaking the silence.  
  
Vaako shrugs. “Rumors can be deadly.”  
  
“So can enemies,” Cavan counters. “Even if they are dead.” He glances down at his patient and sighs. “Will you _please_ allow me to look you over? It will go much faster if you do so, James.”  
  
Jim groans then throws his arms to his sides, pouting all the while. When Cavan touches some of his injuries, he winces and tries to move away. “I missed dinner for this?” he grumbles.  
  
“He missed dinner for _this_ ,” Cavan snorts before turning serious. “What ails you?”  
  
“My head,” Jim replies, trying to be more cooperative, which Vaako suspects is to hurry the process along and have Cavan leave him be. Jim glances at Vaako from the corner of his eyes. “That attendant…” he begins to say.  
  
“You acted swiftly and dispatched him,” Vaako says. He grips the footboard and nods. “You have my thanks.”  
  
“I suppose it wouldn’t be too much to ask if we took a rain check?” Jim says before hissing as Cavan touches a tender spot on his face. “Do you realize that I am _alive_ and can feel that?”  
  
Finally done with his assessment, Cavan sits back with a stern expression. “Now,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument, “rest means rest! This means no more heroics or any sort of physical activity that forces you to leave this bed!”  
  
Vaako sees how Jim reacts to this news. For a moment, it seems that he may argue, but ends up responding with a passive nod and allows Cavan to inject him with a hypospray (“For the pain,” the healer says). A part of Vaako wonders what Jim was like before his ship and crew were taken from him. He has seen snippets of this man—the stubbornness, his fierceness, and his unwavering loyalty towards his loved ones—and knows there was more. Vaako has a sneaking suspicious that Khan—or John Harrison—may have managed to smother most of its embers as soon as he opened fire on Jim’s ship. He can’t even begin to fathom such a devastating loss.  
  
“Can I get you anything?” Vaako asks before he can stop himself.  
  
Jim’s tongue wets his lips. “Do you have books?” he replies. “I like to read.”  
  
“I can bring you several.”  
  
“That’s a good start,” Jim tells him as he tries to suppress a grin.   
  
Vaako arches a brow. “I am glad I could be of service.”  
  
“Shouldn’t it be _me_ who serves _you_?” Jim asks.

“We shall get there, little dove,” Vaako promises before bidding Jim and Cavan a good night.

 

* * *

 

His entire body is sore when he wakes.

The pain comes from a distance, remaining dull until Jim moves and his clothing brushes against his fresh cuts and bruises. With a grunt, he presses his face into the pillows in an attempt to relax into the softness and lull himself back to sleep.   
  
“You’re awake,” says Malvolio as he comes into the room and ruins those plans.  
  
Jim presses his lips together in frustration before speaking to the healer. “It’s temporary,” he says as the pain on his face intensifies.   
  
“Are you in much discomfort?” Malvolio asks. Something about his wide-eyed expression and mop of wavy chestnut hair reminds him of Pavel, breaking his heart anew. When Jim watches as the healer readies a hypospray, he’s thankful that Malvolio is too busy with his task to notice the sadness on Jim’s face. Even if he did, Jim doubts the other man would say anything about it. 

Even if he did, Jim doubts the other man would say anything about it. 

“I will ask that a meal is brought to you,” Malvolio tells him as he injects the contains of the hypospray into Jim’s neck. “It’s been twelve ought hours since you were last conscious.”  
  
“Lord Healer Cavan did say that I was supposed to rest,” Jim jokes. He notices Malvolio grinning as he discards the empty hypospray.   
  
“That he did. What you did was a great risk to your recovery, but very noble. Lord Healer Cavan was most displeased, though I think it impressed him as well.” He turns back to Jim with a curious expression on his face. “Is it true that you killed the assassin with your bare hands?”  
  
“Um…no. It was with a dagger,” Jim replies uncomfortably.  
  
Malvolio’s eyes widen in awe. “Wow!” He leans in, his eyes searching the room for eavesdroppers before continuing. “If it is the dagger I am thinking of, it was a gift from the Furyan, Riddick, and one of the Lord Marshal’s most treasured possessions!”  
  
“A Furyan?”  
  
“They were humanoids descended from the planet Furya, but the former Lord Marshal Zhylaw had them… _exterminated_ ,” Malvolio explains. “Riddick is the only one left of his kind.”  
  
Jim raises a brow. “And he gave Lord Marshal Vaako a dagger?” he asks with uncertainty. “Are you sure he didn’t want to try to kill him with it?”  
  
“The Lord Marshal and the Furyan Riddick have a complex friendship,” Malvolio replies quietly. He brightens a moment later with a smile as if he’s remembered something. “The Lord Marshal brought you something while you were resting.”  
  
Jim follows Malvolio’s gesturing hand to a stack of books— _real ones_ made of paper and bound in leather—placed on his bedside table. The titles on their spines are faded with age, but still legible: _Dante’s Inferno_ , _The Count of Monte Cristo_ , _The Art of War_ , _Hamlet_ , and the complete series of _Sherlock Holmes_.  
  
“The Lord Marshal is not like many Necromongers. He is something of a scholar by your standards and delights in learning; he has a fascination with literature of many kinds, practically Terran,” Malvolio explains to Jim.   
  
Jim reaches out to touch the book on top and feels the leather under his palm. “I didn’t think anything delighted him,” he whispers while he traces its edges.  
  
Malvolio laughs. “Very little,” he agrees as he fetches the book and places it in Jim’s lap. “I shall be back shortly.”  
  
Jim says nothing as the healer leaves him alone in the room; he is too busy staring at the book on his lap. Opening the cover and touching the paper, he thinks of the ones he kept in his quarters; the ones that became space dust and ash along with the rest of his belongings. Jim recalls how much he enjoyed getting lost in their pages and earned a fair amount of teasing from Bones because of this. They bickered constantly about how Jim refused to trade them for the novels that would be downloaded and stored on a PADD.  
  
“I like the sound the pages make when I turn them,” he had once told Bones in an effort to explain his fascination.  
  
Bones, predictably, rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”  
  
“And the smell,” Jim added as he ignored him. He brought the book to his nostrils and inhaled the scent of age, of wonder, and adventure. “I love the smell.”  
  
Grabbing the book out of Jim’s hands, Bones snorted. “I think you’ve sniffed one of these books too often, kid. It may have damaged that corn-fed mind of yours.”  
  
The bittersweet memory makes his throat ache because he misses every iota of Bones. From his drawl and his love of antique medical devices to his merciless teasing and fondness for metaphors. Thinking of him makes it difficult for Jim to exhale without a shudder. True that dwelling on his friends and crew make his chest ache not as much as Bones seems to do. Jim has nothing physical to remember him by, only his screams and those on board the _Enterprise_ as Khan destroyed it. He never got to say goodbye. And never got to tell Bones what he meant to Jim.

That, alone, is probably the equivalent of being stabbed in the heart.   
  
“Are you alright?” Malvolio asks, startling Jim.  
  
He realizes that his cheeks are damp and hastily wipes them away. “I’m fine,” he lies, showing him the book in his hand. “Just mourning lost belongings.”  
  
The healer, thankfully, only spares Jim a perplexed expression as he goes to set the tray of food on Jim’s lap. “I suspect this will taste better than your usual meals,” he says. “Perhaps once you are done, you will have enough energy to read.”  
  
Jim forces himself to smile and casts the book off to the side, trying not to notice how his fingers linger on the spine before he eats.

 

* * *

  
The sound of Vaako’s voice rouses Jim out of his doze as he speaks to an attendant while his armor is removed.

“Tell him that I want the corpse off my ship,” he growls. “Shove it out an airlock for all I care!”  
  
“I inform Commander Toal of your decision, my lord,” says another voice. “Is there anything else?”  
  
“No,” Vaako replies sharply. “You are dismissed.”  
  
Jim closes his eyes once more and tries will himself back to sleep, having exhausted himself from his earlier reading when he hears the door to his chamber open. Giving up, Jim opens his eyes and sits up while the healer on duty rises to their feet and greets Vaako.   
  
“My lord,” they say, their robes rustling as they bow.  
  
Vaako nods at the healer before turning his attention to Jim. A smirk curls his pale lips and he says in amusement, “Books are for reading, Jim. Though I am impressed by your imagination to use them as a child’s stuffed toy.”  
  
Confused, Jim looks down to find that he had napped while curling himself around the book. Even his hand is still trapped between the closed pages! He flushes from the roots of his hair down to his throat. “I was reading, but I fell asleep.”  
  
“Was the book not to your liking?” Vaako inquires as he motions to see the object, which Jim passes to him. He studies it for a moment before smiling. It’s strange to watch the Lord Marshal’s face brighten; one could even say he makes him appears handsome. “This is one of my favorites…and a _very_ apt choice.”  
  
“I’ve read it before,” Jim tells him as Vaako flips through the pages of _The Count of Monte Cristo_.  
  
Vaako looks up from the pages. “Alexandre Dumas is a favorite of mine,” he replies. “I have his completed works in my study, though I seldom have the time to read for pleasure.” He notices Jim’s astonishment. “You are surprised by this.”  
  
“Just…” Jim can’t begin to find the right words. “I guess I am,” he admits.  
  
“Knowledge is power,” Vaako quotes. “So says your Francis Bacon.”  
  
“Knowledge is power only if man knows what facts not to bother with,” Jim counters. Vaako’s brows shoot up to his hairline in inquisitiveness, so much like Bones. “Robert Staughton Lynd,” he adds.  
  
Vaako’s lips twitch. “Touché,” he says. He looks at the healer, dismissing them with a wave and patiently waits for them to leave. “You are full of surprises, Captain James Tiberius Kirk.” He frowns when Jim freezes. “My commander, Toal, gathered this information for me and while you were unconscious, I had time to peruse it,” Vaako explains as he sets the book down. “It seems that you did not lie about your origins, especially after yesterday’s display of Krav Maga. It is Starfleet Academy’s standard method of hand-to-hand combat, is it not?”  
  
Jim’s nods, stunned. “I…I thought you already knew.”  
  
Vaako shrugs. “I had an inkling that turned out to be correct,” he admits a bit too breezily for Jim’s tastes.  
  
“Then you probably figured out how the Orion traders got a hold of me,” Jim says bitterly.  
  
He watches as Vaako studies his face while choosing his next words wisely. Even if he is a Necromonger, Vaako is a politician. “Khan sold you to them once you have served your purpose,” he answers. He doesn’t mean to be cruel or taunting, but even still, Vaako’s response cuts into Jim and slices through his anguish, bleeding it anew.  
  
Jim near chokes while he exhales. “Did you have an _inkling_ about what he did to me?” he asks, trembling. “How he beamed Scotty and Carol back to the ship and told me to watch the viewscreen? That he made me listen to my crew calling out for me while they were trying to figure out where I was? That they had no idea that I was watching them and shouting back to warn them? Or how every time I close my eyes, I hear Bones screaming as the ship explodes around him? Every. Single. Time.” If Vaako sees his tears, he doesn’t care. If Vaako thinks him to be weak, fine.

“There were other people yelling, but all I could hear was him! Only him…right before the ship…” He trails off, trying to remember to breathe. It’s the first time Jim has dared to speak of anything of this and he thinks he might be sick. “Then Khan dragged me into the brig; I couldn’t even fight him off! He kept using me over and over again. He told me that he wanted to break me and he did. When it happened, I was glad Bones was dead because he would have been ashamed of me.”  
  
“That is not true,” Vaako tells him, taking a cautious step forward and then again until he is at Jim’s beside. “I doubt this man would have been ashamed.”  
  
“You don’t know a _thing_ about _him_ ,” Jim hisses as tears sting his eyes. “It was me to let Bones die…I let them all die! Every single one of them would be so angry at me for allowing Khan…they are better off being dead so they didn’t have to see me like this.”  
  
“Like what?” Vaako asks. “Like someone who survived?”  
  
Jim frowns at him. “Like a war lord’s _plaything_ , too weak to get out of bed on his own! Too weak to save himself!”  
  
“Like your enemies, you vastly underestimate yourself, James,” Vaako states sympathetically.  
  
“Don’t tell me a thing about my enemies,” Jim fires back as he launches himself at Vaako, truly furious and ready for a fight. “You don’t know about them! You don’t even know _me_! You just picked me out of a line-up of slaves!”  
  
“You may think that, but I know one thing,” Vaako tells him. “But this Khan did not break you.”  
  
He blinks and Jim finds himself grabbing Vaako and kissing him with desperation. It’s sharp and angry; they come together in a clash of teeth. He hasn’t be touched like this in so long and it feels _amazing_ like he’s spinning out of control and Vaako is the only thing keeping him in place. Jim wants to taste Vaako on his tongue, to see if the inside of his mouth is like death and blood or warm and welcoming. He bites at Vaako’s bottom lip, trying to break his way in when Vaako resists and tries to slow Jim down.

He doesn’t want slow or gentle; he wants it to hurt as much as he’s hurting. Even more than that. He wants it to make him scream and tear apart.   
  
A hand presses on his chest, gently pushing him away as Vaako’s retreats. “No,” the other man says, panting. Pink tinges his cheeks and lips and his eyes, _shit his eyes_ , make Jim want to kneel at his feet. “Not yet.”  
  
Jim swallows down the sick feeling in his stomach and begins to wonder if he’s overstepped the boundaries between them. “Not yet?” he questions.  
  
“When you are ready,” Vaako answers as he slides off the bed and straightens his clothing. “We will when are you ready.”  
  
Jim watches Vaako go to the doorway that connects their rooms and leaves him with promises lingering in the air.


	5. nox

The good thing about Jim already knowing that Vaako has been avoiding him is that he doesn’t have to pretend.

One could say it’s a perk of being the only genius-level repeat offender in the Midwest. His life up until he enrolled in the Academy hadn’t been easy; this isn’t news to Jim. He lost his father before his first breath, his mother to outer space before his first memory, his brother before his first growth spurt. Some of it was circumstances beyond his control, though most of it had to do with his quick temper and even quicker fists. None of it compares to the pain of losing Bones. With the quick succession of everything that happened to him, the pain didn’t have a chance to resonate until months later. 

Now his tedious grasp on Vaako seems to be slipping through his fingers before it’s even begun.

At first, it doesn’t bother him at first because Jim also wants to avoid Vaako. Their last encounter left him feeling confused and even more vulnerable than he already was. He feigns sleeps whenever he hears Vaako coming back from whatever he does, hoping that the other man won’t approach his chamber and counts footsteps until Vaako goes to his own. This continues for a week, then two. In the time that passes, Jim’s body grows stronger; he trembles less when walking without assistance and staying awake is no longer a battle with himself. His mind, however, is still fragile. Despite these improvements, Vaako’s absence begins to fester like a healing wound that’s been rubbed raw.

Despite these improvements, Vaako’s absence begins to fester like a healing wound that’s been rubbed raw. Having been a captain, he understands that the Lord Marshal’s position is a busy and unpredictable one. He tries to keep that in mind every time Vaako bypasses his room for his own or study every night. It doesn’t make it sting any less.  
  
By the fourth week, Jim has reached his wit’s end and doesn’t care if it shows in his demeanor. “This is bullshit,” he mutters into the pages of Sun Tzu’s _The Art of War_. There is no reply or perplexed expression, not that Jim expects one. The healers are wont to leave him on his own since he’s regained most of his health, though there are times that Jim is fatigued and requires their presence.

Thankfully, today is not one of those days.  
  
Jim sets the book down on the table in front of him and rises from the chaise to wander to the door. He learned early on that Vaako hadn’t ordered it to be locked or for Jim to stay confined to his chambers. Jim never had reason to leave, so he never tried. Standing at the threshold, Jim lingers, debating if this is a good idea before taking another step. The door opens when he comes close enough to it, revealing the main room of Vaako’s impressive quarters. The lights reflect against the surface of the dark wood surfaces and masculine colors. Everything is immaculate and has its place, much like the other two rooms Jim has been in. He notices an ancient staff mounted on a stand and is reminded of Bones. As Jim reaches out to touch it, a voice comes from behind him.  
  
“I did not realize that you were up,” they say. Jim turns to see one of the attendants standing behind him. “Shall I fetch you another book or are you ready for your midday meal?”  
  
Jim shakes his head. “I’m just stretching my legs,” he tells her, before quickly adding, “If that’s okay.”  
  
“It is,” she says with a soft smile. “If you should need something please let one of us know.”  
  
Jim nods and begins to watch her go to another part of Vaako’s quarters. “When will he be back?” he asks, causing her to halt and stare at him. “Lord Vaako…do you know when he’ll be back?”  
  
The attendant looks at him curiously. “I suspect later this afternoon,” she states. “Is there a message that you would like me to pass along to him?”  
  
“Yes,” he replies eagerly. “I would like to speak to him if his schedule permits. I understand that he is a busy man…”  
  
“…and you are just a pleasure slave,” the attendant remarks sympathetically. “I will see what I can do.”  
  
Jim sighs, knowing it will have to do. “Thank you…”  
  
“Ygritte,” she says. “My name is Ygritte.”  
  
“Jim,” he tells her.  
  
Ygritte smiles again before disappearing, leaving Jim alone to linger in the main room. He does only because he’s bored and has never sat idle very well. The stars outside the viewport only hold his attention for so long before he has to turn away as painful memories begin to resurface. Jim trudges back into his bedchamber and stands with his back to the door as it slides shut. “Computer,” he says, “close my viewport.” 

He closes his eyes with the screen.

Much later, Jim slouches on the chaise, staring at the small statue on the table. He thinks of how it reminds him of the humanoids on Niburi with their snow-white skin and elongated heads when he hears muffled voices outside his door. A moment later, Vaako enters. “You asked to see me,” Vaako states.

Jim nods and gets to his feet, suddenly nervous. He has no position of power on board this ship nor anything for Vaako to gain by him being here. “I did,” he says, uncomfortably. “What did I do?”  
  
Vaako arches a brow. “I don’t understand.”  
  
“It’s just that…we haven’t seen each other since that night and I’m wondering if I did something to upset you?” Jim says as he fiddles with the hem of his shirt.  “I don’t know… I just thought…” He closes his mouth when he sees the look on Vaako’s face.  
  
“You have done nothing to upset me,” Vaako says sternly. He tilts his head as he stares at Jim. “Though this pitiful display is beginning to change my mind.”  
  
“Pitiful?” Jim inquires shrilly. “ _You_ disappear for _weeks_ without a word and somehow _I’m_ the one being _pitiful_?”  
  
“Know your place, James,” Vaako warns.  
  
Jim throws his hands up in exasperation. “Know my place? I don’t know what my place is! I thought I was your slave, but you’re not even…” He balls his fists. “Hell, you barely look at me!”  
  
“You are my slave,” Vaako growls as he takes a step forward, raising a pointed finger. He looks like he’s about to lose his temper before hesitating and dropping his hand to his side. “I have been preoccupied with Empire matters and I am tired when I come back. I want peace and quiet; not to have to cater to your ill moods and adolescent pouting.”  
  
Jim stiffens but says nothing.  
  
“If you interpreted this as anger or neglect, it was not my intention,” Vaako adds before turning to leave.  
  
“That’s it?” Jim barks before he can stop himself. There is a look of rage on Vaako’s face when the man turns around while  Jim’s own pulses through his veins. “That’s all? A half-assed apology and you leave?”  
  
“You are walking along a very thin line and my patience is waning,” Vaako warns through gritted teeth.  
  
Jim glares at him. “Are you afraid that you’ll hurt me? Break me with whatever toys you have in your closet?” Jim shouts. He charges up to Vaako, itching for a fight. “Let me fill you in: there isn’t much left to break, _my lord_. I’m already broken!”  
  
Vaako’s hand reaches out like a claw and grabs his face like a vice, holding him steady as his cold eyes peer into Jim’s. What Vaako is searching for Jim cannot say. His heart stutters while his body goes hot all over. Jim gulps as he levels his defiant gaze. The Necromonger releases him, almost shoving Jim away from his person with a sneer. He walks towards the threshold that joins their rooms.

Then Vaako releases him with a sneer and shoves Jim away from him. He walks towards the threshold that joins their bedchambers. “You will join me for dinner tomorrow evening,” he states over his shoulder before leaving.

 

* * *

  
The sudden change in his arrangement with Vaako confuses him. 

He has gone from having ignored Jim to having his personal attendants taking over Jim’s bedchambers. They bring in an array of items, bustling passed him without a word and disappear into the bath chamber. The door closes behind them, though Jim hears their muffled voices and movements. Instead of trying to figure out what they’re up to, Jim leaves them alone and goes back to his reading; he has already incurred Vaako’s wrath once and decides against doing it a second time.  
  
“Jim.” Ygritte stands in front of him, hands clasped in front of her robes. “This way,” she says, gesturing towards the bath chamber with a smile.  
  
He follows her, musing how different the Necromonger ship is from his own. Where the Enterprise had plainly decorated quarters only filled with the necessities, the Necromonger ship is ordinate and seemingly from another time and the bath chamber is no exception. There are the usual appliances: self-flushing toilet, sink, and a shower with both sonics and real water. Each one of them is ornately decorated with a metal similar to Earth’s copper. In the center of the chamber is a copper colored tub, yet to be filled.

However, in the room’s center stands a copper-colored tub waiting to be filled. Next to it is a padded table draped with linens and another attendant patiently waiting for them. She bobs her head in greeting when Jim and Ygritte come in.

“This is Amrita,” Ygritte says. “She is skilled in the art of _mengurut_ , or what Terrans calls massage.”  
  
Jim stares at the table. “Massage?”  
  
“It is Lord Vaako’s wishes that you be made ready for dinner this evening,” Ygritte replies.  
  
Jim arches his brow as he turns back to Ygritte. “Really?” he asks, baffled.  
  
“Yes. We shall leave you to strip,” Amrita says. “Please lie face down under the blankets and I shall return shortly. Afterward, you will be bathed and groomed.”  
  
As they leave, the women flash him a smile; then he’s left alone. 

Annoyed, Jim presses his lips together as he glances around the bath chamber. “This is insane,” Jim mutters to himself as he pulls his shirt over his head and drops it onto the ground. He feels like a sacrificial lamb. Next are his sleep pants, followed by his underwear. He stands naked in the warm bath chamber, contemplating his options, however limited they are, before following the rest of Amrita’s instructions.  
  
Several quiet minutes pass before there is a discreet knock before she enters. Amrita approaches the table with a basket filled to the brim with bottles of oils and begins to prepare for her task. It’s just as well that she doesn’t engage in idle chit-chat with Jim because he thinks they have little to talk about. As soon as Amrita’s warm, oiled hands touch his skin, Jim relaxes into the table with a sigh. She kneads every knot and ache out of his body with expertise Jim can only describe as otherworldly. Somewhere between his shoulder blades and mid-back, Jim dozes off with his head pillowed in his arms.  
  
He doesn’t dream of anything for once; just a sea of endless black. It’s peaceful, which Jim hasn’t felt in a long time, and he feels content to stay there. 

Eventually, she shakes him awake, rousing him out of his nap. Jim blearily opens his eyes. “Come,” Amrita coaxes. “Your bath waits.”  
  
He luxuriates in the tub as the other attendants groom him. They file and buff his hands and feet, trim his hair, and shave the stubble from his face. It makes him feel like a harem boy, but there isn’t much Jim can do that about that. However, he does question how strange this all is. “Is this normal?” Jim asks Ygritte as she comes into the bath chamber with fresh towels. “All this… _primping_?”  
  
Ygritte laughs. “Lord Vaako wants you to feel welcomed,” she says as she motions for Jim to get out of the tub.  
  
“But I’m his slave,” Jim replies, confused. He grips the sides of the tub and hoists himself up. Ygritte holds up one of the towels to protect his modesty from the retreating attendants and looks away as he wraps it around his waist.

Ygritte holds up one of the towels to protect his modesty from the retreating attendants and looks away as he wraps it around his waist. “You may be his slave, but it does not mean that Lord Vaako will treat you cruelly. He is a fierce man, but he does not use his power as Lord Marshal to arouse fear in his subjects. Come.”  
  
In his bedchamber, someone has set out a new tunic and set of pants. He reaches out to touch the material when Ygritte asks, “Is it not to your liking?”  
  
Jim shakes his head. “No, it’s fine…” He flushes with embarrassment. “I feel like I’m on parade for him.”  
  
“Perhaps you are,” she replies. She flashes him a smile before leaving.  
  
He watches her go as an uncomfortable lump forms in this throat. He swallows it down and wonders what his friends would think of him now. It’s not hard to imagine Hikaru and Pavel laughing at his expense while Scotty teased him mercilessly. Spock, most likely, would raise an angled brow before declaring that Jim’s situation was most illogical as Nyota hid her giggles behind her hand.  
  
Carol, on the other hand, he didn’t know well enough.  
  
Then there would be Chris Pike, shaking his head and saying, “Kid, how do you manage to get yourself into these messes?”  
  
And Bones…he can hear his voice as he calls Jim a reckless idiot as he unhooks the towel around his waist. Jim lets it drop to the floor and begins to dress. If he’s going to be a warlord’s plaything, he may as well look the part. Once he’s finished, Jim waits until another attendant comes to fetch him.

Following them barefoot through Vaako’s quarters, Jim is led to the dining area where the man himself stands by the viewport with a glass of red liquid. He does not have his armor on, just the black clothing that Jim is accustomed to seeing him in, and seems to be more relaxed this evening. His profile contrasts with space when he turns his head before looking back.  

“Leave us,” he says to the attendant, who obeys without question and bows before leaving Jim to awkwardly stand by the dining table.   
  
He hasn’t felt this uncomfortable since attending his first formal dinner as captain of the _Enterprise_ and having to wear that ridiculous grey dress uniform, hat and all. 

“Would you like some blood wine?” Vaako asks as he goes to the table, setting his glass down to grab another one and the glass decanter.  
  
_No_ , Jim thinks to himself, _now I’m uncomfortable._  
  
Vaako glances at him, smirking. “As far as I know, it’s not made of real blood,” he says as he pours a glass.   
  
“If you are trying to lighten the mood, it isn’t working,” Jim tells him as Vaako holds out the glass.  
  
Vaako shrugs, still holding the glass. “I am not known for my sense of humor, little dove,” he replies. 

Jim begrudgingly takes it from him and sniffs the contents. The smell reminds him of the bottle of red wine he and Bones split after their appointments became official. Quirking a brow, Jim takes a sip and is pleased to find that Vaako was telling the truth. 

“Is it to your liking?” Vaako asks as he refills his own glass.  
  
Jim runs his tongue over his lower lip and nods. “Yes,” he replies. “Thank you.”  
  
Vaako sets down the decanter. “Do not thank me. My _tukang masak_ picked it based on what he prepared for us this evening. He is very particular when it comes to choosing the wine to compliment his dishes.”  
  
“A personal chef?” Jim asks, astounded. He had a yeoman who would fetch his meals and coffee when he was stuck in on the bridge or in his office, but not a personal chef.  
  
Vaako sips his wine with a grin. “Yes. Did you not have one on your ship?” He chuckles when Jim shakes his head in reply. “A shame, but perhaps the men and women who serve Starfleet are less inclined to bloodlust, unlike Necromongers.”  
  
“All beings have bloodlust…it just depends on if the individual acts upon it,” Jim counters.  
  
“Violence is both unavoidable and unjustifiable.”  
  
Jim raises a brow. “Is it normal for Necromongers to quote Albert Camus?”  
  
“Probably not, though it appears that you don’t seem to mind,” Vaako observes. He tilts his head, watching as Jim shifts uncomfortably. “Let us eat. We _are_ here to have dinner after all.”  
  
“Are you sure we’re just here for dinner?” Jim asks as he goes to one of the chairs and sits down.   
  
Vaako’s expression remains neutral as he takes a seat next to Jim and takes another sip of wine. As he sets the glass down, he leans closer towards Jim’s direction. “This is not meant to force myself upon you. As I have said before, I will not do anything that is against your will. I meant it.”  
  
“So you’re having dinner to get to know me,” Jim says. Harsh laughter falls from his mouth as he rolls his eyes. He goes to take another sip from his glass, muttering, “Just when I thought I’ve heard it all.”  
  
“You are clearly very intelligent and accomplished for someone as young as you are,” Vaako tells him. “I like to socialize with beings who challenge my way of thinking. It makes for good leadership.”  
  
“Is that why you purchased me?” Jim retorts. “Because I was smart?”  
  
Vaako laughs. “Not at all. There are two reasons for your purchase,” he says as he holds up fingers to accompany his statement. “When you bit the Orion, it was an act of desperation but it also showed me that there was life still left in you. There is also your looks or what Terrans call easy on the eyes. Your intelligence and status back on Earth were merely afterthoughts.” Jim says nothing, something which Vaako picks up on. “Does this offend you?”  
  
“I’m not sure,” Jim replies.  
  
Vaako leans back in his seat. “I bet you are used to others seeing you as just a pretty face. They disregard what goes on behind your blue eyes and what you may overhear while they stare at those pink lips,” he muses as a pale finger slowly circles the rim of his glass. “It used to upset you, but now you use it to your advantage.” He dips his finger inside, soaking it with wine. “I wonder if you are doing it now, little dove. Are you going to bewitch me into telling you my secrets?” He glances up at Jim, his dark eyes glinting in mischief, as he retracts the digit and lets the red liquid gather to drip onto his tongue. Some of it misses and catches on his bottom lip. It rests on the pale pink flesh, quivering enticingly.

Jim waits for Vaako to swipe it with his tongue until he decides to partially rise from his seat to close the gap between them. He reaches out, collecting the droplet with his thumb as it brushes against Vaako’s soft lips, bringing it to his mouth. Keeping his eyes locked with Vaako’s, Jim tastes the wine before sitting back down. “I don’t know,” he replies with a purposeful tilt of his head. “I’ll leave it up to you to decide.”

Vaako’s expression tenses as two attendants come into the room, each carrying covered dishes. He continues to stare at Jim as they set the items down in front of both men, uncovering them with fluid grace. Neither attendant seems to notice the intensity crackling in the air but if they do, Jim thinks they are trained to ignore it. Vaako breaks eye contact and picks up a fork to start eating the salad-like dish that has been set down in front of them. “You tread precariously,” he comments.  
  
“I’ve been told that once or twice,” Jim responds before taking a sip of wine to wash down the Necromonger dish.  
  
“Only once or twice,” Vaako huffs in amusement. “I am shocked.”  
  
Jim snickers. “The exact words were ‘Do you know what a pain you are?’.” He stares at his fork, twirling it around as it catches the candlelight. “My mentor said that to me.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
Jim nods. “I had falsified a mission report and got caught. Looking back, it was stupid of me and I could have jeopardized my entire career over it,” he explains before glancing up at Vaako. He chuckles. “And Chris was pissed as hell! I’m pretty sure if he could have gotten away with it, he would have strangled me.”  
  
“And what happened?” Vaako asks with genuine interest.  
  
Jim shrugs. “They took my ship away from me and Chris, Admiral Pike, went to bat for me. He told them that I deserved a second chance and that I would learn from my mistakes. I was demoted to commander under him…but Khan attacked Starfleet,” Jim trails off, swallowing hard. “Chris died and I was given back my ship.”  
  
“It is difficult to lose a mentor,” Vaako says gently. “Were you close?”  
  
Jim nods. “I never had a father growing up; he died when I was born. My mom…well, she never got over it. She was barely home and I just went wild. Fights, shoplifting, underage drinking…you name it, I did it.” He chuckles at the memories of his rebellious youth. “Chris straightened me out. You should have seen how disappointed he was in me. He said that I didn’t have an ounce of humility, that I believed that I couldn’t make mistakes…and that I would get myself and everyone under my command killed.” Vaako says nothing and Jim can’t bear to look at him. “He was partially right,” he comments before bringing the glass to his lips and chugging the rest of the wine.  
  
“What lead to the demise of your crew was not because of your lack of humility or judgment. It was circumstances beyond your control,” Vaako tells him.  
  
Jim smacks his lips and sets the glass down. “You don’t know that. I could have been reckless.”  
  
Vaako studies him for a moment before reaching for the decanter that one of the attendants brought over. He pours more wine into Jim’s glass before continuing. “This is true but something tells me that while you were blinded by the hurt and anger of your mentor’s death, it was not recklessness that led to your crew’s deaths.”  
  
“I put their lives in danger. One thousand lives and they were _my_ responsibility.”  
  
“Death is an imminent part of life.”  
  
“Says the Necromonger.”  
  
Vaako nods without hesitation. “I know death quite well. Unlike Terrans who fear it, we embrace it.”  
  
“Even if it could have been prevented?”   
  
“Yes.”  
  
They lapse into silence, neither eating from their plates. The attendants come back, removing the dishes and used utensils from the table. Two more arrive with the main course, setting it down in front of them. It’s a meat dish that consists of the Necromonger equivalent to filet mignon served on top of foie gras and garnished with slices of black truffle-like slices. Jim won’t admit it out loud, but its aroma smells amazing as he inhales the dish.  
  
“It is similar to your Tournedos Rossini,” Vaako says as he starts cutting into the meat. “Have you had it before?”  
  
“Once,” Jim answers as he starts digging into the meal in front of him. He cuts a slice of meat and forks it into his mouth, letting the taste resonate on his tongue. “In Paris, where the Federation headquarters is located.”  
  
Vaako nods as he eats. “Was this trip for business or pleasure?”  
  
“A bit of both, I suppose. There was a conference that I attended for a few days. Once that was done, I spent a few days playing tourist,” Jim continues.  
  
“You are lucky that your position allowed you to do such a thing,” Vaako comments.  
  
Jim snorts. “Not quite,” he admits. “Chris was pretty pissed at me when I got back because no one knew where I was. I went off the grid so to speak.”  
  
Vaako grins. “Was that the second time he inferred that you were a pain?”  
  
“Possibly,” Jim quips. “It’s happened so many times that I lost track.”  
  
Both of them laugh, breaking some of the tension in the room.  
  
“You were a bit of a troublemaker, then?” Vaako inquires with a smirk. “So was I when I was younger.”  
  
“I don’t believe that for a minute.”  
  
“Ask Lord Healer Cavan. He has known me since I was a boy and first brought into the Necromonger regime,” he counters. “It was your typical boyhood pranks, but it annoyed our superiors. In turn, it made us happy.”   
  
Jim raises a brow. “I thought that as a Necromonger you wouldn’t have much of a childhood.”  
  
“Yes and no,” Vaako says. “My parents died when I was very young. I barely remember them.” He glances at Jim and smiles softly. “It seems we have that in common.” 

Jim returns the smile and watches Vaako as he goes back to eating. He follows suit, savoring his first real meal in months. The healers have kept him on a bland diet to avoid upsetting his stomach that Jim almost forgot what real food tasted like. His stomach is comfortably full by the time the attendants come to retrieve their dinner. He leans back in his seat and toys with his glass of wine. 

“Come,” Vaako says as he rises from his seat. “I have something to show you.”  
  
Jim follows, leaving his wine glass on the table. “What about dessert?” Jim asks as they walk towards Vaako’s bedchambers.  
  
“Perhaps later,” Vaako replies over the sound of the door sliding open.  
  
He swallows, wondering what he will find. He half expects it to be a dungeon, complete with a whipping post, chains, and an array of sex toys. Instead, the room is tastefully decorated much like the rest of the Lord Marshal’s quarters. There are the usual pieces of furniture—a dresser, closet, bedside tables, arm chairs, and bookshelves filled to the brim—though the four poster bed is unusual. A couch sits near the viewport, turned so that it looks out into the black. 

“You look relieved,” Vaako says as he goes to the desk.  
  
Jim nods as he walks over to the viewport, placing his hands against the back of the couch. “I thought I was walking into your sex dungeon.”  
  
Vaako laughs. “While my quarters are lavish, they do not have enough room for a dungeon,” he replies as he rifles through his things. “Also, dungeons are tedious to maintain.”  
  
“Good to know,” Jim says distractedly as he watches space passing them by. He doesn’t realize that Vaako is walking up to him until the man is standing at his side, holding a wooden box.

“Here,” Vaako tells him, holding it out. “I found this amongst my things in my study and thought that you may enjoy it once my books bore you.” 

Jim inspects the box carefully, noting its age and the detail in the design carved into the lid. His fingers go to the brass latch, flipping it up so he can open the lid. Jim lets out a surprised sound as he stares down at expertly crafted chess pieces made of white and ebony marble.  
  
“Is it to your liking?” he hears Vaako ask. He turns to the Necromonger and sees that he is observing Jim’s reaction, looking uncertain if the gift was the right thing to do.

Jim nods, grateful. He and Spock used to play while they discussed ship business; it had been one of the few times Spock let his guard down. “Yes…thank you,” he says as he caresses several pieces.  
  
“I confess I have never played chess, but we have a similar game called _catur_ ,” Vaako admits. “It is played on a three leveled board with thirty-two pieces for each player—” Jim doesn’t let him finish explaining and swallows his words. Pressing his lips to Vaako’s, kissing him hard as his cups the back of his head. It’s filled with a longing for intimate physical contact and desperation so intense that Jim doesn’t really care when he loudly moans into it. He works his tongue into Vaako’s mouth, licking and sucking on anything in his path.

To his surprise, the Necromonger does not deny him like he did once before. He gives back, his tongue battling against Jim’s. Vaako’s hands cup the sides of his face and pulls Jim closer. The sharp edges of the box wedged between them press into their bodies. With quick hands, Vaako closes the lid and removes it from Jim’s hands. Where he puts it, Jim has no idea.

A feral, heady growl comes from Vaako’s mouth as his hands move from Jim’s face and down his body. His touch lingers at his waist, grasping at Jim with a hint of possessiveness. Jim presses down on Vaako’s plump lower lip and relishes his moan as he pulls Jim closer. Through layers of clothing, Vaako’s erection presses against his own and sets off sparks behind his closed eyelids. He expects Vaako to begin undressing him when his hands slip under the hem of his tunic, stroking the skin he finds. 

Instead, Vaako’s lips disengage from his, pressing a trail of pecks along the outside of Jim’s mouth, over the scars on his chin, and his jaw until he reaches his earlobe. Jim pants against Vaako’s neck and buries his hands in his hair. He shivers as hot breath dances over his overly-sensitive skin, whining when Vaako’s tongue begins to tease him. “I need to know,” Vaako says huskily, “that this is what you want.” When Jim moans loudly in reply, Vaako tugs on him. “Tell me,” he demands. “I need you to say yes or no, little dove.”  
  
Jim nods, opening his eyes to look at Vaako. “Yes,” he whispers. “Yes, please…yes!”  
  
Those are the last words either of them speak for a while. Vaako hooks his fingers around the waist of Jim’s pants and tugs him closer where their lips meet. As he guides them towards the bed, Vaako keeps their mouths pressed together for deep, arousing exploration. Jim falls into it and welcomes the Lord Marshal to debauch him as he touches Vaako’s broad shoulders. The muscles move and flex under the material of his clothing and _god_ , he wants to feel his skin against his own! Vaako’s hands move from his waist to skirting up his stomach, causing Jim to moan as Vaako teasing his body before removing his tunic. Jim raises his arms so Vaako can peel off it, shivering when fingers skirt past his nipples. Darkness falls as his clothing is brought over his head and then he sees Vaako staring at him.   
  
Not him, but his body. Standing still, Jim watches as Vaako drinks him in as if he’s a work of art. He takes in every ripple of muscle, each freckle, and scar. While Jim still has some of his clothing on, he feels as if he’s already been stripped naked under Vaako’s scrutiny. Vaako reaches out to stroke his hips in slow circles and pulls Jim forward to kiss him. He becomes lost Vaako’s lips once more, not realizing where he’s going until the backs of his legs bump into the mattress.  
  
The soft material of the duvet cushions him as Vaako lays Jim down on the bed. He holds onto the Necromonger’s forearms, pawing at his sleeves as he whimpers. Vaako breaks the kiss once more, pressing his mouth against his neck, then his chest, and down his stomach until he straddles the younger man’s hips. He glances down at Vaako, noticing how blown his pupils appear, giving his eyes the illusion of being black and the flush of arousal high on his cheeks. His lips stand out the most, having been bitten red from kissing. Vaako goes to remove his own shirt, the dark material revealing pale, almost translucent skin. There is a thatch of hair in the center of his chest as well as a trail from his belly button to under the waistband of his pants. 

Leaning over Jim, Vaako takes one of his nipples into his mouth and begins to tease it with his tongue. Jim cries out, palms pressed against Vaako’s naked back, and arches against him as he licks and sucks on the nub. The sharp edge of teeth run over it before Vaako pulls back with a pop and begins focusing his attention on its twin.   
  
The feeling of the Necromonger’s hot mouth on his skin leaves Jim feeling utterly wrecked by the time Vaako cups his bulge and begins undoing the clasp of his pants. Jim watches him and whines in protest as Vaako takes his time rolling them down his hips. Once Jim’s cock springs free of its confines the older man pauses. Being under the intensity Vaako’s stare as he takes in Jim’s erection jutting out from between his thighs is unnerving, causing Jim tremble. Vaako leans back, taking Jim’s pants with him.

Vaako leans back, taking Jim’s pants with him and tosses them off to the side. He crawls over the mattress to open the top drawer of the bedside table, retrieving a small vial of what Jim suspects is lube, which he discreetly places next to Jim’s thigh. Then Vaako removes the last of his own clothing and reveals his uncircumcised length. The light catches on the tip where a shining point first appears to be a droplet of precum. At second glance, Jim realizes that Vaako has a piercing. His eyes go wide as he becomes mesmerized by the sight until Vaako leans over him to kiss Jim. He greedily accepts it, allowing Vaako to pin his wrists over his head. Their hands remained clasped together as Vaako reaches for the vial. 

Their hands remained clasped together as Vaako reaches for the vial. Flinching at the sound of the cork being popped off, Jim notices Vaako stops. Their eyes meet as Vaako lifts his head, staring at Jim in concern. “Do you want this?” he asks.  
  
Jim nods, swallowing. “Yes,” he replies, not caring how completely wrecked his voice sounds. “Yes.” He’s begging, but he doesn’t care. 

That’s all the permission Vaako needs to lube up his fingers and begin opening Jim up for him. As the first one slides into him, Jim closes his eyes and groans.  
  
“Jim,” Vaako whispers as he slowly thrusts his digit in and out of him. “Open your eyes.” 

He complies. “I want to watch you,” Vaako says as he stretches the ring of muscle. “I want see how you react to me, how you fall apart…” Once Jim’s loose enough for another finger, Vaako adds one that brushes over his prostate. Jim cries out, squeezing the hand keeping him pinned down.   
  
It seems like forever until a third finger breeches him. Jim arches off the mattress, shouting incoherently as Vaako ruthlessly targets the gland with the finesse that one could expect from a Necromonger. Except Vaako is gentle when he handles Jim and murmurs encouragingly when Jim manages to keep his eyes open despite his vision whiting out to the sharp pinpoints of pleasure running up and down his spine.

“Please,” he begs. “Please, my lord, please!”  
  
Vaako captures his mouth with his and withdraws his fingers from Jim’s hole to slick himself up. Jim feels the blunt press of Vaako’s cockhead as it teases the tight ring of muscle before gently pushing in. With a cry, Jim loses all coherency and starts panting. He digs his fingernails into Vaako’s hand while Vaako pushes into him until he bottoms out. Both men share a groan of pleasure. 

Jim arches against him as Vaako pulls out, his pierced cock brushing against his prostate. Vaako sets their rhythm, controlling the motion of Jim’s hips to meet his thrusts. Jim can’t tell where Vaako’s body ends and his begins, nor does he care as his orgasm begins to pool and spread through him. When it comes, Jim’s cock spurts between their stomachs as he closes his eyes. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over him, making the darkness behind his lids sparkle. Vaako’s ragged breathing fills his ears as the other man moves faster, causing their skin to slap together.   
  
Vaako growls as he cums, spilling deep inside of Jim before stilling above him. Jim opens his eyes to find Vaako looking as wrecked as he feels; his flushed skin glistens with sweat while his usually immaculate hair falls over his face, obscuring an eye from view.  
  
“Little dove,” Vaako murmurs against Jim’s cheek before tilting his face towards his own. He grins as pulling Jim into a kiss.

He finds himself sinking into it, thinking that he would let the Vaako swallow him whole if that’s what he desired.

 

* * *

  
Vaako notices that he is alone in bed when he opens his eyes. 

It neither surprises him or wound his feelings. Jim had been quiet after they cleaned themselves up and settled back in bed. While he didn’t turn away from Vaako, he kept himself within arm’s reach. Jim wore his emotions on his face and Vaako decided not to press him. They lapsed into a loaded silence to which Vaako decided to read through his daily reports. Jim drifted off and Vaako eventually followed.

Pushing himself upright, Vaako searches the room for Jim who he finds sitting on the couch and staring out the viewport. He slips out of bed and walks over to the couch where he waits for Jim to speak.  
  
“The constellations are different out here,” Jim remarks.  
  
Vaako glances out the viewport and sees the stars that twinkle back at them. “They are different everywhere,” he responds. Not wanting to infringe on Jim’s personal space, Vaako keeps his distance. “Are you all right?”  
  
Jim turns towards him and nods. “I’m fine,” he says. “Just couldn’t sleep. I’m not used to sharing a bed.”  
  
“I felt it would be crass and make you return to your own room,” Vaako tells him as he takes a seat on the couch and notices that Jim hasn’t bothered putting clothes. “Was it too much?” he asks.  
  
“I would have told you if it was,” he replies. There is a pregnant pause between them until Jim speaks again. “It’s just been a while since…it’s been a while.”  
  
Vaako nods in understanding. “What do you need from me?”  
  
“I should be asking that,” Jim snorts with a shake of his head and a sad smile.  
  
“You may be my slave, but I also desire that you be comfortable physically, emotionally, and mentally.”  
  
Jim acknowledges his statement with a nod. “I know,” he whispers.  
  
“So what do you need from me?” Vaako asks again.  
  
Jim shrugs. “I don’t know,” he admits. He looks at Vaako in the dark. “Can we just sit here for a while?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
Eventually they will go back to Vaako’s bed to sleep, but until then they stare at the ever expanding black in front of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following words are Malay:
> 
> Mengurut - Massage  
> Tukang masak - Chef  
> Catur - Chess


	6. mortalitas

Vaako notes the pleasant sensation spreading from groin to his limbs, the one that tells of a satisfying release. 

Next to him, Jim shifts and redistributes his weight, making the mattress dip for a moment. A sleepy grunt follows and ends with snuffling when he stops moving. He wants to gaze upon him, but the door slides open and his attendant, Slav, comes in, carrying his uniform. “My lord,” he whispers in greeting. Vaako nods as he heads to the bath chamber to begin his morning, coming upon anothfer attendant laying out his clothing.

As he starts the sonics, he hears Slav clear his throat. “My lord,” he says, “what about your slave? Shall I escort him back to his chambers?”  
  
Vaako glances towards the bedchamber and shakes his head, thinking of how strange it is to share a bed with someone after so long. The Dame and he had not slept in the same room for years, which was perfectly fine by him. He disliked the press of her body against his own because, frankly, he felt like he would end up with a knife in his back while he slept. “He is welcomed to stay as long as he wishes,” Vaako replies before stepping inside the stall.  
  
As the sonics wash over his skin, he reminisces over how Jim surrendered to him the night before. How he took, demanded, and gave with his body with such enthusiasm. How he responded to Vaako’s touch; how his voice sounded when he pleaded, how he trembled, the look of complete ecstasy on his face. Vaako recalls the sensation of Jim quivering around his cock, milking his length as his climaxed, and feels his member stirring once more. Palming himself, Vaako decides that perhaps he should wait until later and make tonight about him. He shuts off the sonics and exits the stall to carry on with his morning routine.

Slav waits for him and begins assisting Vaako as he gets dressed. Slav helps him slip on his calf-length Nehru jacket and starts on buttoning the clasps with precise fingers when he asks, “Shall I bring your morning meal to your study, my lord?”  
  
Vaako straightens the jacket and shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I will have it in my ready room. Have it delivered there shortly.”  
  
“Yes my lord,” Slav replies with a graceful bow before making his exit.  
  
Adjusting his cuffs, Vaako walks back out to the bedchamber where he notices Jim, who has now curled onto his side. He stops his fiddling to appreciate how low linens dip on his body, threatening to expose his nudity to the room. It paints a pretty picture to see the contrast between Jim’s golden coloring against the dark material around him. Vaako notes the various freckles and birthmarks dotting Jim’s skin and resists the urge to trace them with his tongue before taking Jim into his mouth.

Later, perhaps, but not now. He leaves Jim in bed and finds Toal standing in the main room where he admires a bust of the Necromonger ruler, Naphemil the Navigator. “It was the Dame’s,” Vaako says. “I would have had it discarded, but you and I know it would have reflected poorly upon me.”  
  
“Indeed,” Toal agrees as he turns to him. With a teasing smirk, he gives Vaako a once over. “I thought that I would have had to go in there and drag you out.”  
  
Vaako rolls his eyes and snatches the data tablet from Toal’s grasp. “I always put my duties as Lord Marshal before all else,” he mutters.  
  
“I never said you didn’t,” Toal replies. “Tell me, Siberius, was he a wanton thing? Did he beg you to fuck him like a real man should?”  
  
“It is a private matter,” Vaako answers, hotly.  
  
Toal snorts. “I bet you’re the first he’s had,” he laughs. “Surprising since he’s such a…”  
  
“ _Silence_!” Vaako shouts, his voice echoing throughout. He raises an accusatory finger at Toal and growls, “You will cease speaking about him in such a degrading manner. Am I clear?”  
  
Toal nods, stunned. “Yes, my lord.”  
  
“Good,” he says as he begins to calm down. “Now tell me what Chancellor Ottmar wants to complain about during our conference.”  
  
He and Toal set aside their earlier disagreement and go about their day. It is only after the conference with Ottmar has concluded and lunch is being served in Vaako’s ready room, that Toal says, “I am sorry about earlier.”   
  
“It is fine,” Vaako tells him. “Just don’t let it happen again.”  
  
They lapse into silence. Toal begins to pick at his meal, looking more morose than usual, which Vaako refrains from pointing out. Finally, he clears his throat. “Do you have feelings for him?” Toal asks, earning a glare from Vaako and counters with one of his own. “Siberius, this is me. We have known each other since we were children.”  
  
“I respect him,” Vaako replies as he cuts into his meat with a knife, perhaps a bit too roughly. “He still has his wits about despite suffering greatly.”  
  
“This is true, but at some point or another we lose our crew.”  
  
Vaako sets down his utensils with a sigh. “John Harrison, who is known to my slave as Khan, treated him cruelly. He took James by force.”  
  
They stare at each other, allowing the true meaning of Vaako’s words to resonate. As he predicted, Toal’s expression darkens and he too sets down his fork. “It seems that there are even crueler beings than us Necromongers,” Toal finally intones.   
  
Vaako nods as he takes a sip of wine. “So it seems.”  
  
“I am sorry for what I said earlier. Had I known,” Toal’s voice trails off.  
  
“You didn’t,” Vaako tells him. “It’s fine, Toal. Just be glad that he didn’t hear you. My slave may have a pretty face, but I suspect that he has an even fiercer temper.”  
  
Toal chuckles. “As I mentioned before, his fighting could use some work,” he teases. “Perhaps you should train him.”  
  
“Perhaps you should read his file more in-depth,” Vaako counters with a grin. “He was the top student in his hand-to-hand combat classes and even assisted one of the instructors when he started at Starfleet Academy.”  
  
Toal looks stunned. “He did?”  
  
“Yes,” Vaako says, proudly. “You may make fun of my tendency to read, but perhaps you should follow suit. It would make you seem less daft.”  
  
“We can’t all be intelligent like you, Siberius,” Toal sing-songs before going back to his meal.

 

* * *

  
Despite the monotony of the rest of his day, Vaako’s thoughts randomly turn back to Jim.

He wonders how he is spending his time; if he is still sleeping in his bed or awake and having a quiet meal. Is he using the chess set Vaako gave him or reading a book from the growing stack on his dresser? Does Vaako cross his mind?

As he sits on the bridge, Vaako types a message to his head attendant, ordering that he wants Jim waiting for him in his study. He hits send, smirking to himself. Tonight he will bend Jim’s boundaries, starting off slow and working their way towards more blurred lines. He’s already had the pleasure of tasting Jim’s mouth, something he plans to sample more often than not. However, he has yet to feel his full lips wrapped around his cock.   
  
When Vaako goes back to his quarters, he briefly pauses outside the closed door of his study. He remembers the cock ring he keeps in his desk and thinks of how lovely it will look fitted around the base of Jim’s erection. That is if Jim is agreeable. He walks inside and surprises Jim, who stands next to one of his bookcases and peruses through it. Vaako takes in the sight of him and offers a nod of greeting. “You look well,” he comments.  
  
“Thanks,” Jim says, sounding uncertain as he places the book back on the shelf. “I am here like you asked.”  
  
Vaako smirks as he goes to his desk. “I can see that,” he teases, earning a scowl from Jim. “I hope you slept well.”  
  
“It was a bit disorienting not to wake up in my own bed,” Jim snaps, sounding more irritable than normal. He forces a smile when Vaako looks at him.  
  
“Well,” Vaako says as he opens a drawer, “in time you will get used to it.” He finds the black box he is searching for and grabs it.  
  
Jim snorts. “Thanks, I think.”  
  
“Do you recall our conversation about dominance. We had it a few weeks back?” Vaako questions as he shuts the drawer and sets the box on the desk. He glances at Jim, who nods. “If you are agreeable, I would like to introduce you to it, so to speak.” He watches as Jim freezes, except for his eyes that widen with unspoken fear. “Your safewords will be in place. Do you remember what they are?”  
  
“Red,” Jim says, hoarsely. “Yellow, green.”  
  
Vaako nods. “Very good,” he replies as he leans against the edge of the desk. “You look frightened.”  
  
“I’m not,” Jim counters, quickly.  
  
Vaako arches a brow and doesn’t say anything about it. “Just because I control your pleasure does not mean I control the scenario, James. If you say red, we stop; no questions asked.”  
  
“You’ll be angry.”  
  
Vaako shakes his head. “No. Your comfort and safety are my concern, my desires are secondary,” he tells Jim, watching his face very closely as the fear dissipates. “Are you amenable?”  
  
“Yes,” Jim whispers after a while.  
  
“I am glad to hear it,” Vaako says. “Now strip.” He watches as Jim becomes puzzled and opens his mouth to speak. “Strip,” Vaako orders again.

Jim hesitates and for a moment, Vaako wonders if he will use his safeword before he pulls the cordovan tunic off his body. The item of clothing falls gracelessly to the floor by Jim’s bare feet, followed by his pants that pool at his ankles. The imprint of Jim’s half-hard cock strains against his underwear. Jim reaches for the waistband and hooks his fingers on the fabric. He glances at Vaako, who nods, and pulls them down, slowly exposing his groin.  
  
“Very good,” Vaako tells him as the last article of clothing falls to the ground. He picks up the box next to his thigh and opens it. “Now this is up to you,” he explains as he pulls out the silver cock ring and holds it up for Jim to see. Jim wets his lips with his tongue and nods. “Say it, Jim,” Vaako reminds him.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Yes _what_?”  
  
Jim’s cock twitches at the order. “Yes, my lord.”  
  
“Good,” he says as he rises off the desk and walks towards him and stands in front of Jim. They are the same height, more or less, though Vaako’s boots add an inch or two. He traces the cock ring along Jim’s collarbone, admiring the way his skin pimples when the metal touches it. Vaako tugs the ring down the center of Jim’s chest, and then the defined muscles of his stomach. He pauses at his navel, eyeing the protrusion before touching it his fingertips and continuing towards the erection brushing against Vaako’s jacket. He pauses, look at to Jim’s face for his reaction.  
  
“Green,” Jim whispers.  
  
Keeping his touches as gentle and reassuring as possible, Vaako caresses Jim’s hips and then his erection before putting the cock ring in place. He brings a hand up to Jim’s chin and gently nudges him forward, bringing their mouths together in a chaste kiss. Vaako pulls back with a grin, running his thumb against the velvet softness of Jim’s lower lip. Jim is a vision like this, being so submissive and on the verge of ecstasy. A flush is creeping across his skin, darkening as he becomes more aroused while his pupils swallow the blue of his irises, leaving no doubt in Vaako’s mind that his slave wants this. “Good boy,” he tells him. “Now I’m sure you’ve heard patience is a virtue. I want to see how you are when it comes to receiving pleasure.”  
  
He feels the burn of Jim’s stare following him as he walks back to the desk and takes his place against the edge. Vaako spreads his legs temptingly. “Come,” he commands with a crook of his finger. Jim does and without fuss, which Vaako expected. It’s charming to see Jim looking so out of his element as if he thinks he’s a lamb going to slaughter. However, it seems he trusts Vaako.

For now anyway. 

“You are very obedient,” Vaako remarks, tracing his finger down Jim’s arm. “It must be strange for you to take commands when you are used to giving them.”  
  
He knows that he’s struck a nerve when Jim inhales sharply. “Yes, my lord,” he responds through grit teeth.  
  
“It was just an observation, Jim,” Vaako tells him as if he’s speaking to a child. His hand travels to the small of Jim’s back and pushes him forward so that he’s standing between Vaako’s legs. “Do you want to please me if it means you are pleased in return?” 

Jim’s cock twitches and fills out even more. Vaako has his answer through body language, but he needs to hear it from the young man. He _wants_ to hear it. “Yes,” Jim replies. Vaako arches a brow. “Yes, my lord.”  
  
He runs a hand through Jim’s hair, gently guiding him to his knees. His own cock is pressed against the zipper of his pants, leaking and throbbing. Vaako unbuttons his jacket, letting it fall open to expose the tented fabric. That’s when Jim surges forward with caution. He runs his palms over Vaako’s thighs, staring for a while, making Vaako if he has misjudged the situation and if it’s too soon to push Jim’s limits. While the brand on his side and the few choice words that Jim let slip out in a fit of despair indicate the cruelty he experienced, Vaako truly has no idea what horrible acts Khan enacted on the young man during his captivity.

What he does know makes his blood burn; that Khan used Jim’s tactile nature against himself. It makes Vaako want to soothe his pain somehow. “You can stop this at any time,” he murmurs as he cards through Jim’s hair, feeling the silky strands brush against his fingers. He doesn’t do any more; he just waits.  
  
Jim’s fingers go to the zipper, pulling the tag down before moving to the clasp at his waist. He goes about it with precise, careful movements. The color rising on his cheeks gives him away. Vaako keeps petting his hair and watching in rapt fascination. He raises his hips to assist Jim in rolling his pants down to his thighs for better access to his cock. His slave runs a finger over his length, touching him from tip to root and back again. He presses against Vaako’s pierced head, eyes filled with wonder before he decides to take him in hand. Jim strokes him, squeezing his root and kneading his cockhead. He looks up in hesitation, only repeating the motion when Vaako nods.

Vaako groans encouragingly and even more so when Jim’s tongue flicks out to wet his own lips as he leans closer. He licks Vaako’s head, swirling around his slit and teasing the flared edges before swallowing him down. Vaako’s fingers curl into Jim’s hair, tightening his grip as he watches his cock disappears into his mouth and thinks it’s just as titillating as he had imagined.

He gasps when Jim’s tongue flicks his leaking slit again to teases the piercing and then licking the underside of his head. Vaako closes his eyes and enjoys the sensation of Jim’s hand stroking his length in time with his mouth. He doesn’t try to force his whims on the other man and lets him set the pace while Vaako whispers his praises. “I want you to touch yourself,” he tells Jim. “I want to feel you moaning while you please me.”  
  
There’s a shift and the vibration of Jim’s muffled whine as he takes himself in hand, stroking his cock as he sucks off Vaako. He opens his eyes to see Jim staring up at him with cherry red lips stuffed full of his length, pupils blown wide, save for a thin ring of blue and glistening with arousal. Vaako brushes his thumb against a flushed cheekbone, watching as Jim closes his eyes. He groans as Jim uses the sharp edge of his teeth against his sensitive head, flicking the piercing mercilessly as his cheeks hollow.  
  
“Slow down, little dove,” Vaako tells him. 

Beneath the dark fan of his eyelashes, Jim blinks up at him as he pulls off Vaako and drags his tongue over his cockhead. He starts to lick up and down the Necromonger’s shaft, keeping his eyes on him as he flicks the piercing. 

“Have you seen one of these before?” Vaako asks. He chuckles when Jim shakes his head and swirls his tongue around his cockhead. “Mmm…little dove…it seems that you enjoy it, do you not?” Jim nods. “I thought as much. I remember how it made you tremble last night when we were in bed.” Vaako groans at the memory. “How every time I thrust into you, you would tighten up and moan so prettily…” 

Jim groans in reply as he takes Vaako deeper into his mouth. Fascinated, Vaako watches as his cock disappears between Jim’s swollen lips. He cries out at the sudden sensation of suction and ends up hunched over Jim, twist his hair between his fingers. Jim groans at the tug on his scalp as his mouth works Vaako to the brink. His teeth tug on the piercing as his tongue lavishes the vein under Vaako’s cockhead. 

“God,” Vaako murmurs as his orgasm barrels through his body and begins spurting onto Jim’s tongue. He loses himself, jerking his hips as he fucks into Jim’s hot mouth. Vaako hears Jim breathing harder as he tries to swallow his entire release without gagging. The tightness of him encompassing Vaako is just as intoxicating as his hole; so perfect, so greedy, so ready to make Vaako’s pleasure last…  
  
Vaako curses when Jim’s tongue proves to be too much for his spent length and pulls him out of his stupor. “Enough,” he breathes, pulling Jim off of him. “Enough.” With a glance, he realizes that Jim—beautiful, willing Jim—is still stroking himself. A thin sheen of sweat covers his body and Vaako is tempted to lick it off. 

“Lean against the desk, little dove,” he orders, pleased. “Your back to me.”  
  
“Yes my lord,” Jim replies in a trembling voice as he rises to his feet.  
  
Vaako admires Jim’s backside for a moment, taking in the taut back muscles and swell of his ass. “Legs spread,” he says, smiling as Jim follows his order. “Keep stroking yourself, little dove. Don’t stop until I tell you.” He presses his lips to his back to taste the freckles and birthmarks dotting Jim’s skin. Vaako nips at his slave’s nape and licks over his shoulder blades, tracing an invisible pathway as Jim arches against him. 

“I could trace constellations on your back,” Vaako whispers into his skin. “Maybe one evening I will do that with my tongue until you beg me for more.”  
  
“Yes my lord,” Jim groans. “Whatever pleases you.”  
  
Vaako hums as he lowers himself to his knees, cupping one of Jim’s ass cheeks in his hand. “Whatever pleases me?” he inquires before playfully biting into one of them, finding it supple and tasting of the young man's sweat.  
  
“ _Y-yes_ ,” Jim gasps with a shudder.  
  
Vaako’s hand moves to Jim’s crack, tracing between his cheeks with a finger. “I want to taste you,” he tells Jim. “Is that agreeable?”  
  
He hears Jim swallowing before his whisper of, “Yes, my lord.”

Vaako spreads his cheeks with his hands and licks a strip down the middle. He can taste the salty perspiration on Jim’s skin and wants _more_. A strangled cry erupts from Jim’s lips as Vaako swirls his tongue around his puckered opening. Vaako moans in response as he presses his tongue against his hole, trying to break through.

“ _My lord_ ,” Jim moans. 

Vaako looks up, seeing the movements of Jim’s hand on his cock and the sweat pooling at the small of his back. Pleased with himself, he presses the tip of his tongue into his slave and begins kissing him open. With a choked shout, Jim arches into him and inadvertently assists Vaako in breaching him even deeper. 

“My lord,” he cries out. “ _Please…_ ”  
  
Vaako continues to fuck Jim’s ass with his tongue, delighting in tasting him and inhaling his musk. The exquisite torture of the cock ring keeps Jim teetering on the verge of climax for ages, until his legs start trembling, until his body is flushed, until he’s begging and whimpering and Vaako can’t take it anymore. “What do you want, little dove?” Vaako asks as he pulls back and licks his way back up Jim’s body. “What do you crave?”  
  
Jim cries out when Vaako’s hand joins his own on his throbbing cock. His head is slick with precum that leaks onto the desk, pooling against the surface. “Reward me,” he moans breathlessly.  
  
Vaako doesn’t wait for him to say please; doesn’t it matter. He reaches for the mechanism on the cock ring, pressing down to release the device as he continues to stroke Jim’s cock with his other hand on top of Jim’s, listening to his cries of pleasure as his orgasm spills out of him. “That’s my good boy,” he whispers into Jim’s ear over the sound of his climax. “You look so beautiful like this…” 

Jim’s knees buckle; Vaako tightens an arm around his middle and holds him while Jim slumps against him. His slave’s head drops back onto his shoulder, lulling as he regains his breath. Vaako keeps whispering in his ear, keeps petting his skin, keeps him from falling. 

If time passes quickly, neither of them notices.

 

* * *

  
Gav winces as he stares into the mirror, seeing the crude scar that mars his once flawless green skin. He touches the raised flesh and grits his teeth. 

He’s glad to be rid of that impudent Terran. Yes, he had been a pretty picture with his impossibly blue eyes and golden hair, but he was a thorn in Gav’s side. More trouble than he was worth. His swift sale had been a blessing, especially when the Necromonger eagerly overpaid for his purchase. It is just as well that the lad has been sold off to some ham-fisted brute who will no doubt beat him every chance he gets. Perhaps the Terran will learn to submit and his delusions of grandeur will become a thing of the past. 

Gav snorts in disgust as he turns away from the mirror. “Thelev,” he calls as he adjusts his robes. “Thelev! On our next purchasing trip, we must find a physician who can heal this mess.”  
  
His assistant, Thelev, comes bumbling in. “Yes?” he asks, having not heard him.  
  
“This,” Gav snaps as he points to his face. “ _This_ scar. I want it _gone_!”  
  
Thelev nods in understanding. “I understand, sir, but we do not have the devices to remove it available to us,” he replies. “Perhaps on our next run, we can purchase a portable regen unit.”  
  
“It is not soon enough!” Gav whines. He turns back to the mirror and growls. “I hope that little shit gets what he deserves!” Thelev says nothing. “Believe me; I am glad to be rid of him. Had I known what trouble he’d cause, I would have overdosed him during the first night!” He knocks over a vase and ignores the sound of it shattering when it hits the floor.  
  
“He is gone now and that is all that matters,” Thelev sighs as he looks at the mess. “That vase was Andorian.”  
  
Gav rolls his eyes. “We can buy a new one with the credits from the Terran’s purchase.” 

Both Orions start to snicker when another assistant comes into the room, looking frightened. She clears her throat, waiting for them to acknowledge her. “Yes, Junia, what is it?”  
  
She gulps before speaking. “There is a man here,” she says quietly. “And he is inquiring about the Terran male.”  
  
Gav and Thelev glance at each other before the former replies, “Oh?”  
  
“Yes sir,” she says. “He is waiting in the great room. He was very insistent on meeting with you.”  
  
Gav waves a dismissive hand. “I’ll be there in a moment,” he says. “Be sure to offer him some refreshments.”  
  
“Yes sir,” Junia replies before leaving.  
  
Thelev turns to him, bug-eyed. “You are being quite calm about this,” he remarks nervously.  
  
“He is gone and we erased any record of him being here,” Gav replies. “Plus his buyer paid with coin and coin is untraceable.”  
  
“You can never be too careful,” Thelev tells him.  
  
Gav shrugs as he adjusts his robes before going out to greet their visitor. “You are being overly paranoid, Thelev,” he says over his shoulder. He goes to the great room, where Junia keeps her distance from the visitor.  who stands with his back to them. 

They stand with their back to them, only turning when he realizes that someone else has joined them. It’s the pale man from before; the man who brought the Terran to them in the first place. His snow-white skin peeks out over the neck of his jacket. 

“I am Gav,” he greets with a syrupy sweet voice, pretending to have never seen him before. “How may I be of service to you, good sir?”  
  
The man turns around, his rage-filled ice blue eyes zeroed in on Gav. His lips curl into a sneer before he says, “You can start by telling me where that Terran slave of yours is.”  
  
“I do not know what you mean,” Gav says uncomfortably. “We have no such slave here.”  
  
The man takes a step forward, his knuckles during pink as he tightens his fist. “I do not recommend that you lie. It is not wise if you wish to stay alive,” he growls.  
  
“You are mistaken,” Gav begins to tell him before the man’s hand shoots out and grabs him by the throat. He feels himself being picked up off the ground and slammed into a wall. 

Junia screams and runs off, probably to get Thelev.  
  
“Look at me,” the man growls, tightening his grip. “Look closely. The next words out of your impudent mouth will be the truth or I shall crush your windpipe without a second thought.”  
  
Gav gasps for breath. “C-can’t…” he stammers. The man loosens his grasp, allowing him to suck in oxygen.

Through swimming vision, Gav takes in the man’s aquiline features that are seemingly carved out of ice. His paleness is offset by his dense black hair that miraculously remains in place. It’s so haunting, so strange…so completely unforgettable. 

“ _You_ ,” Gav whispers. “You brought a curse upon me!”  
  
The man’s thin lips curl into a ghastly version of a smile. “Ah, you _do_ remember me,” he says. His features twist, showing his anger. “Now tell me, where is that Terran male I sold you?”  
  
“He’s not here,” Gav rasps.  
  
“You lie.”  
  
“It’s the truth!” Gav shrieks as the man’s fingers start to twitch around his throat. “He’s not here! He’s gone; sold!”  
  
“Sold to whom?”  
  
Gav lets out a squeak.  
  
“Sold to whom!” the man roars as he effortlessly flings Gav into a table. “Tell me now!”  
  
Gav curls into a ball. “A warlord,” he screams. “A warlord from another realm! I don’t know where. We burned his papers as soon as the transaction was completed!”  
  
“I will crush your chest cavity with my fists if you do not start giving me the answers I seek,” the man warns in an eerily calm voice. He is standing over Gav, his ice blue eyes looking right through him.  
  
“What is he to you?” Gav counters. “You seemed happy enough to be rid of him.”  
  
The man’s expression remains neutral. “I changed my mind,” he says.  
  
“I doubt that if we will be able to track down his purchaser that he’ll want to hand him over,” Gav tells him with more bravery than he feels.  
  
“Let me worry about that,” he hisses. He reaches out with lightning fast movements and grabs Gav’s arm, twisting it painfully. “Now…tell me _everything_.”  
  
Gav howls in pain.  
  
“He was sold to a Necromonger,” Junia shouts from behind them. Both of them look at her and she flushes. “The Terran male,” she says. “A Necromonger, their Lord Marshal, purchased him.”  
  
The man turns to Gav. “Your assistant has the intelligence you lack,” he comments before turning back to Junia. “Do you have a name?”  
  
“No,” she whispers. “We erased his records as soon as the coin was turned into credits to avoid any suspicion. I am sorry…that is all I know.”  
  
The man releases Gav’s arm with a curt nod of his head. “My thanks,” he says before grabbing the Orion by the skull and jerking roughly, shattering his neck. Over the sound of Junia’s screams, Gav crumbles to the floor, lifeless. The man walks towards the hysterical Orion and gently cups her chin. “Let this be a reminder to you to _always_ tell the truth, my dear,” he states before leaving.


	7. letum

Jim has seen his fair share of unfamiliar ceilings and beds before he makes a stealthy exit as the sun creeps over the horizon. 

However, there is no sunrise or anywhere to run on the Necromonger ship, just the rooms of Vaako’s quarters. 

“You’re awake,” Vaako says distractedly.

Jim palms his face before turning to the other man who is working on a data tablet. It reminds him of the times he would do the same thing from bed with his PADD in hand.  _When I used to be more than a warlord’s plaything_ , he thinks bitterly. He pushes back the sheets and swings his legs over the side of the bed, taking a moment to stretch. “I’ll get out of your hair,” he says quietly. He starts to rise to his feet when a hand rests on his arm. Surprised, Jim turns back.

“You may stay if you wish,” Vaako tells him. “I have no prior engagements today and was going ask you if you’d like a tour of the ship.”

Jim arches a brow. “A tour?”

“You have been confined to my quarters long enough,” Vaako says with a shrug. He lets go of Jim’s arm and leans back against the pillows. “It is just an offer, little dove. No need to have that nervous glint in your eyes.”

Jim snorts. “I don’t have a nervous glint,” he snaps.

“See for yourself,” Vaako replies with a laugh as he turns back to his tablet. “Your emotions fluctuate when it comes to me.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Vaako gives him a sidelong glance before setting the tablet down on the bedside table. “You do,” he states with certainty. “You are torn between your hatred of your circumstances and the desire stemming from what I can offer you.”

Jim gulps and averts his eyes. His skin begins prickling with warmth, traveling from his groin up to his cheeks where it burns even more hotly. “I think you enjoy making me uncomfortable,” he mutters.

“You could always use your safeword,” Vaako casually offers.

Jim’s head snaps up with a glare. “Go to hell,” he hisses as he launches himself off the bed. He finds his neatly folded clothing on the couch and snatches them up before leaving Vaako’s chamber, raging furiously. He feels the urge to punch something or scream, which he plans on doing as soon as he’s back in his own bedchamber. He may be Vaako’s slave, but if it means having to hack into the computer system, Jim _will_ have his privacy. As the door slides shut, Jim tosses his clothing across on the floor with a shout and charges up to the control panel. Thankfully, Necromonger technology is similar to Terran, so Jim programs it to only open on his command. Satisfied, he heads for the bath chamber when Vaako startles him, causing him to yelp.

“How the hell did you get in here?” he yells.

Vaako raises a brow. “There are _two_ doors to this room,” he states, gesturing to the door behind him. “I simply used this one.”

Jim cranes his neck and spies said door. “I want to be left alone,” he grouses. “Please leave.”

“And I want to apologize for what I said,” Vaako counters.

Jim swallows back a frustrated scream. “Apology accepted. Now go.” Vaako doesn’t move; he just stares at Jim with that unbearably familiar expression that makes him want to cry and physically attack him. “I said _leave_ ,” Jim shouts. His shoulders tense when Vaako raises a brow. “Didn’t you fucking hear me? I said get the fuck out of _my_ room!”

Vaako doesn’t even flinch at the volume of Jim’s words. “I heard you,” he says calmly. “But I’m not leaving.”

He charges up to Vaako, taking a swing at him, which the Necromonger gracefully side-steps.“Red!” Jim screams. “Red! Red! Is that what you wanted to hear?” Jim tries to go for another punch when Vaako knocks him onto the ground, pinning his arms to his sides and sits on his thighs. He tries to buck him off, but the Necromonger’s solid build proves to be too heavy.

“You were perfectly fine last night and for a few minutes this morning,” Vaako says. He is staring Jim down like a viper.

“Well _excuse me_ for waking up on the wrong side of the bed,” Jim grunts. “Now get off me!”

Vaako shakes his head. “You get angry when someone points out your weaknesses.” When Jim goes to retort, Vaako cuts him off with a sharp look. “It is so. Do not lie.” 

Jim stares at him with steely eyes and says nothing. 

“Or perhaps you believe your anger will provoke me,” Vaako continues. “You like pushing buttons. You want to see how far people can bend before they retaliate against you.”

Jim tries to throw him again, but Vaako’s stance holds steady. “Don’t that you know me. You have figured out what gets me off, but that doesn’t make you an expert!” he growls.

“That may be true, but I know pain when I see it,” Vaako replies. “You are still alive while your crew is dead. When you find yourself remotely content, your guilt begins to consume you because they no longer have the same luxury. So you want to find a way to ruin it…to preserve their memory and the pain of your loss.”

Jim blinks back the tears that suddenly sting his eyes. “You only know pain because you cause it.”

“Did I cause yours?” 

Jim shakes his head; the root of his pain comes from someone whose cruelty goes dark and deeper than anything he could ever imagine. Than anyone could imagine.

“What can I do to help you, little dove?” Vaako asks in earnest. He leans down after a period of silence, pressing his lips to a sensitive spot of Jim’s neck. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

He closes his eyes as he turns away and tears fall down his face. Jim exhales as Vaako’s mouth continues its wayward journey over his skin. His lips have no clear destination, echoing how Jim has no idea what to do with the Necromonger’s offer. That’s a lie; he does, but it scares him shitless. He feels Vaako’s thumbs brushing away his tears and whimpers in reply.

“Do not be ashamed,” Jim hears Vaako whisper as he coaxes his head upright. “Tell me what you need, little dove. Anything you wish, I will do it.”

Jim briefly wonders if Vaako would leave his room. He opens his eyes to see his face; both Vaako _and_ Bones. God, he misses him! “Fuck me,” Jim finally tells him. “Please.”

The last word out of his mouth is so raw, so distraught that Vaako raises a brow. “Are you sure?”

His body is buzzing with grief, making his skin feel too tight, too suffocating. “Yes,” Jim replies, bringing his mouth to Vaako’s neck. He licks it in small, concise circles and tastes the saltiness of pale, warm flesh. “I want you to.”

There is no need for a safeword as their mouths crash together in a desperate, hungry kiss. Vaako sucks and nibbles on Jim’s lips until they part for his tongue. He doesn’t battle for dominance, allowing the Lord Marshal to devour him as they kiss on the floor. Jim wants Vaako to take control away from him and make him hurt, make him scream…

…make him break under his thrusts.

Somehow they are on their feet with Vaako’s hands on Jim’s hips, guiding him towards his own bed. Jim digs his fingernails into Vaako’s biceps as they engage fierce battle of teeth and tongues. Jim bites down on Vaako’s lower lip and breaks the skin; blood pools on his tongue. He expects Vaako to pull back and punch him, not the uninhibited moan of pleasure that radiates from him. He continues to suck on the wound and groans as their cloth closed erections brush against each other. 

“Please,” Jim utters against Vaako’s mouth. “Please…”

Vaako grips the back of his head as his teeth sink into the tender skin of his neck. Jim cries out and bucks against the other man as he claws at him. Vaako licks the bruised flesh before going back to Jim’s mouth. Their hands are all over each other, pulling off their scant clothing to expose more skin as they fall on the bed. Vaako pauses to grab lube from the bath chamber. When he comes back, there is a heated look in his eyes that makes Jim shiver with anticipation.

“Turn over,” he commands. 

A brief flash of Khan and his sneer flashes in front of him. 

“Little dove,” Vaako says, cupping his cheek. He thumbs Jim’s skin as if he’s touching something priceless. “I will not harm you.”

Jim glances up at him and sees the honesty reflecting in Vaako’s dark eyes. He may be a Necromonger, but deep down, Jim knows that this man would never intentionally inflict pain upon him. He turns over onto all fours in a silent reply, letting the Lord Marshal cup one of his ass cheeks. 

“So perfect,” Vaako murmurs in awe. He uncaps the lube and squeezes some of it onto his fingers.

Jim tenses and waits to be opened. Instead, Vaako kisses his way down the knobs of Jim’s spine, muttering compliments that he cannot hear into his skin. “I want,” Jim starts to say before losing his nerve.

Vaako stops right above his iliac crest. “What do you want, little dove?” he asks. As he strokes his skin, Jim begins feeling calmer, bolder. “Tell me what you want.”

“Make it hurt,” Jim rasps, clutching the duvet. He doesn’t dare look back at Vaako as his fingers trail between his cheeks and circle the puckered opening. Jim shudders at the touch that sends a jolt of pleasure up and down his spine.

“Are you sure?” Vaako asks, pausing his movements.

Jim nods. “Yes,” he says.

He feels Vaako’s lips on his skin and the movement of his head nodding as one of his fingers enters Jim. The Lord Marshal does not pause at the first knuckle, but continues until it’s fully seated inside Jim’s tight opening. Jim savors the momentary burn as Vaako slides his digit back out, dragging it along his prostate. With Vaako’s name on his tongue, he groans at the sensation because _fuck_ , it feels good! He spreads his legs wider in invitation when two fingers slam into him, causing Jim to cry out. His body tenses around the intrusion, even as he rocks onto Vaako’s hand.

Vaako’s mouth is on his lower back, breathing onto his skin as he scissors and stretches Jim’s hole, then thrusts into him. His skin begins flushing as sweat pools on his body. He wants to call out Vaako’s name—perhaps, scream it—as his fingers continue their assault on his opening. Instead, he bites his lower lip and swallows back the moan teasing his tongue.

Jim hears Vaako slicking himself up before he removes his fingers and starts kissing his way back up his body. Jim turns his head to find the Necromonger pulling him into a heated kiss as he lines his cock up with his hole. “Please,” he whispers against Vaako’s mouth. “Please, Siberius, please.”

Vaako pushes in without preamble, making Jim gasp in a white-hot mixture of pain and pleasure. He isn’t prepared enough and the resistance trying to keep Vaako from going further burns. Vaako moans as his hips move shallowly into his too tight heat until he bottoms out. Jim cries out when the Necromonger pulls out and thrusts back in, taking him all at once. With Vaako’s hands are on his hips, they build their momentum into a furious rhythm that knocks the headboard against the wall. He pushes himself back onto Vaako’s cock, moaning as his pierced cockhead brushes against him.

Vaako switches his angle and aims for Jim’s prostate. “Stroke yourself,” he gasps into Jim’s ear.

Jim slips a hand between his legs and feels his leaking cock as it brushes against his fingers. He shudders as he takes himself in hand. He’s quivering with need, straining to keep himself upright. “That’s all you got,” he grunts with every thrust, chuckling darkly. “That’s all you got?”

The razor sharp edges of Vaako’s teeth clamp down on his shoulder as he snaps his hips forward, filling Jim with a searing pain as he breaks the skin open. Jim cums without warning, screaming as he spills his release all over his fist and the duvet. With a final, smaller spurt, Jim slumps against Vaako and groans as the other man holds him to unrepentantly fuck him until his own orgasm comes.

Vaako pulls out him, letting Jim fall onto the mattress. “It is not wise to taunt a Necromonger,” Vaako whispers as he eases Jim onto his back. He rubs his stomach in slow, steady circles as Jim comes back to himself. “I could have you all day.”

Jim grunts as he turns his head to look at Vaako. “All day?” he huffs.

“Yes,” Vaako replies, trailing a finger down Jim’s body. “ _All_ day.”

Even though his cock is spent and limp against his thigh, it twitches at the prospect. “That’s just crazy talk,” he replies.

“Is it?” Vaako asks him as he leans over Jim, smirking. “Is that what you think, little dove?” He leans over him and runs a finger over the curve of his jaw before kissing him.

Jim accepts it in silent reply.

 

* * *

 

He always thought he had a ridiculous amount of stamina when it came to sex, but Jim finds as he lies drowsy and loose-limbed, Vaako is giving him a run for his money. 

“Is that all you got?” he hears the Lord Marshal say as he flops down next to him, panting.

Closing his eyes, Jim grumbles incoherently. His body is all scorching hot, perspiring skin and covered in love bites, the nerves so sensitive that he swears he felt the spray of Vaako’s release coating every part of him. Not to mention that Jim is pretty sure his hips are decorated in Vaako’s fingerprints

At least, Vaako doesn’t look much better. Jim sucked a cluster of bruises on his neck, licking them until they turned a brilliant shade of purple. Vaako’s pale shoulder blades have parallel scratches from Jim’s fingernails thanks to a particularly well-timed thrust into Jim’s prostate that took him by surprise. He thinks he screamed loud enough that the attendants and people outside of Vaako’s quarters heard.

Pressing his face into the soiled duvet, Jim begins to doze off when Vaako’s fingers start to caress his side. Jim is surprised by how gentle Vaako can be since he’s a Necromonger and Jim has heard all the stories about them. Humming contently, he relaxes into the nonsensical patterns being traced onto his skin. Jim hears Vaako chuckle and whisper his nickname as his fingers continue their journey. His eyes snap at the first brush of a fingertip against the brand.

“Don’t,” Jim gasps as he jerks back, covering it with his hand. Panic sweeps through him, making him nauseated as he swings his legs off the edge of the bed. “You can do whatever you want…but just don’t…”

“My apologies,” Vaako replies quietly. He doesn’t try to reach for Jim and keeps his distance until the worst of Jim’s anxiety has passed. “Do you want me to leave?”

Jim swallows and shakes his head. “I just need a minute,” he says as he stands, wincing from sore muscles and overused body parts.

“Sore?” Vaako asks with a chuckle.

He shoots him a playful scowl. “I wonder why?” Jim retorts as he hobbles towards the bath chamber. “Are you going to join me?”

“In a moment,” Vaako replies as he grabs his discarded sleep pants and pulls them on.

Just as Jim is stepping under the spray of hot water, he hears the door to the bath chamber opening. He hears Vaako addressing the attendants, probably to have them strip Jim’s bed and replace the linens as well as bring them a much-needed meal before it shuts. Vaako begins stripping off his clothes while Jim leans against the tile wall, letting the water cascade down his back. When Vaako comes up behind him, Jim groans as the other man cups his ass cheeks before gliding over them. 

“Dame Vaako hated the sonics,” Vaako says as he kisses Jim’s neck.

Jim leans back into him. “You never thought to take them out?” he asks, his breath hitching as Vaako cups his half-hard erection.

“Once, perhaps,” Vaako says as he turns Jim around so they are facing each other. He reaches for a bottle of soap and pours it into his hand. “Now I see its merits.”

He takes both their lengths in hand and creates delicious friction as he strokes them against each other.

Jim bites back a moan, dropping his head against the wall. “Oh god,” he whispers as his eyes flutter close. “You weren’t kidding when you said all day.”

“No, little dove,” Vaako chuckles. He presses his lips against Jim’s collarbone, licking the skin. “Why? Is it too much?” He doesn’t let Jim answer and rubs their cockheads together, ensuring that his piercing teases the underside of Jim’s head. Shuddering, Jim bucks his hips as Vaako jerks them off.

When he cums with a pained sob, Jim all but collapses against Vaako’s body. The Necromonger’s semen coats his stomach before being washed away by the water.

“I’ll clean you off,” Vaako tells him as he supports Jim with a steady arm wrapped around his back. Despite his tired body and wobbly legs, Jim manages to stay upright. By the time the water shuts off and a towel is pressed against his damp skin, his eyelids are drooping and he wants to fall against the nearest soft surface. 

“I had the attendants bring us lunch,” Vaako says as Jim stumbles into his room.

Jim shakes his head. “Bed,” he mumbles.

“Aren’t you hungry, little dove?” He can hear the amusement in Vaako's voice as Jim pulls off the towel secured around his waist and dumps it on the floor next to the bed.

It takes the last of his energy to pull back the clean linens and duvet before crawling onto the mattress. Jim is already halfway asleep when Vaako runs a hand through his hair and pulls the bed linens up to cover his naked body. He hears him chuckling, a deep, rumbling sound that in his drowsy state makes him think of Bones. He looks up, expecting to see the doctor standing in front of him but it’s Vaako. Sighing, Jim closes his eyes and sleeps.

And instead of nightmares, he dreams. 

Subconsciously, Jim is surprised, given how tired he is. Usually when he’s run himself ragged, he falls into a deep and dark abyss until he emerges hours later. He sees Bones or at least his shadowy figure standing just out of reach. He makes out the familiar span of broad shoulders and arms crossed over his chest as he tries to get closer. Bones shifts away every time until he disappears and Jim wakes with a start.

He finds himself facing Vaako who reads in bed, seemingly consumed by the book he’s holding. Jim lifts his head off the pillow and looks around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. “What time is it?” he asks, his voice husky from sleep.

“Late afternoon,” Vaako replies as he turns a page. “You were asleep for only a few hours. If you are still in need of rest, I can leave.” He turns to Jim and grins. “I forgot that a Terran’s endurance is not like a Necromongers, though you seem to be different from most.”

Jim snorts as he rolls over onto his back, hissing as his raw skin makes contact with the bed linens. “If you need them, I have a list of references,” he quips in discomfort.

“Those are not necessary,” the Necromonger says. He sets the book down and watches Jim as he tries to make himself comfortable. “I notice how you look at me sometimes.”

Jim raises a brow. “And how’s that?” he asks as he rolls onto his side, facing the Necromonger.

“Ignorance does not become you, little dove,” Vaako tells him with a frown. “This Leonard McCoy has more than a passing resemblance to me and I can see why you confuse us at times.” 

Jim is speechless for a moment or three before he finds his voice again. As he’s about to contradict him, Vaako beats Jim to the punch. “You grieve his death,” Vaako states. “Was he your lover?”

“No,” Jim replies. “He was not.”

Vaako raises a brow in surprise. “The way you spoke about him…it seemed otherwise,” he says, softly. “Did you ever get a chance to tell him how you felt?”

Jim shakes his head. “I always thought I would be able to,” he sighs, sadly. “I always thought there would be more time.”

“Perhaps he already knew,” Vaako offers.

“Bones was smart, but he was also oblivious,” Jim laughs ruefully. “He had no idea.”

They fall into a silence that’s not awkward or tense for once. Vaako props himself up on his side and reaches out to touch Jim’s shoulder, brushing it with his index finger. Jim watches as the Necromonger leans over him, putting his lips to the shell of his ear. Hot breath tickles the skin as Vaako whispers, “ _S'ti th'laktra_.”

_I grieve with thee._

Jim pulls back, surprised that Vaako would know Vulcan, and stares at him in awe. “ _Th'i-oxalra_ ,” he whispers back as he closes the distance between them.

“I thought you were tired, little dove,” Vaako says as he breaks the kiss and allows Jim to straddle his lap. 

Jim shrugs as he places his hands on the other man’s shoulders. “Once more couldn’t hurt,” he tells him before bringing their lips together.


	8. pestis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of this chapter has some triggers for sexual assault. Please read with caution.

Seventy-two lives all gone with a touch of a button. 

Seventy-two lives obliterated, blown to cinders and ash, the other thousand that perished alongside them were extraneous and disposable. Just white noise. 

If only he had thought to check the torpedoes before getting rid of Jim Kirk. Khan had been so mad with power and freedom that common sense had been tossed to the wayside. Being what he is may have made him more superior to other beings, but there were certain aspects that still made him human.  
  
As Marcus and his crew lie dead on the floor of the bridge, Khan sits in the command chair, smiling in grim satisfaction as he caresses the trigger on the armrest. A pained groan comes from Jim Kirk as he slowly regains consciousness. With feeble movements, he slowly pushes himself onto his hands and knees while Khan watches in curiosity. He wonders how long it will take for the young man to realize that he’s alone. He already beamed Marcus’ daughter and that Scotsman back on to the other ship. “If you are looking for your companions, they are not here,” he states.  
  
Jim squints at him through unfocused, dazed eyes before he scrambles to his feet. Using a console for balance, he snaps, “Where are they?” 

Khan just stares at him to appreciate his solid build, those exquisitely shocking blue eyes, and generous mouth. With the bruises and still bleeding cuts,  Jim Kirk looks like a fearsome creature, not a Starfleet captain with his disheveled appearance. 

But even the most fearsome can be broken.  
  
“Turn your attention to the viewscreen, _captain_ ,” Khan replies. He watches as Jim turns his attention to the screen where the  _Enterprise_  hovers directly in front of them, shining and pristine against the void of space. Khan senses the change in Jim’s heartbeat, the frantic thumps and rising blood pressure, as he flicks on the audio. The expression on his face gratifies Khan instantaneously as they listen to the crew’s voices. There is so much fear, distress, and rage; so incredibly _human_.  
  
“Jim confirmed that he was with you, Mr. Scott!”  
  
“Aye Commander, I know that,” says a man with a Scottish brogue. “But he’s not ‘ere now! I cannae tell where he’s gone!”  
  
Jim rushes the screen. “I’m right here!” he calls out over their voices.  
  
“Scotty, how the hell do you lose a person?” growls another man’s voice laced with a Southern accent.  
  
“It’s Jim we’re talkin’ ‘bout!” counters the Scottish man.  
  
“Bones!” Jim cries. “Spock!”  
  
Khan smirks. “They cannot hear you, James.” He looks at his perfectly manicured and clean nails.  
  
“What are you going to do to them?” the captain asks, his voice trembling as he continues to listen.  
  
Khan glances up. “I dare say that you already know the answer to that question.”  
  
“We had a deal!” Jim shouts as he spins around. “Your crew for our safety!”  
  
Khan casually shrugs. “And I changed my mind.” He smiles as the gravity of the next few moments washes over Jim’s face.  
  
“No,” he whispers, shaking his head. Even as his eyes fill with tears, he continues to do so in disbelief. “No. You wouldn’t…”  
  
Khan just nods, running his finger over the command console. “Indeed I would.”  
  
“But Marcus was the one you wanted,” Jim counters. He balls his fists together and steps closer to Khan. “We _helped_ you.”  
  
Khan shrugs. “You have my thanks,” he replies coolly.  
  
Watching Jim’s facade begins to crack under the pressure is an amusing sight to behold. This is the man that Starfleet built to lead them into the outreaches of space; a man who breaks so easily. His lower lip quivers as he swallows. “Please. Please don’t,” Jim begs. “I’ll do anything… _anything_ you want. Just don’t…”  
  
Khan leans back in the chair, making a study of the young man who is trembling in front of him. “You’ll do it anyway,” he replies as he presses down on the trigger. Over the sounds of explosions, Khan’s lips curl into a sinister grin. He hears swearing, cries for pitiful gods that won’t come to save them, shouts of terror, calls for help. He looks to Jim, watching him scream, watching him as he doesn’t stop. Watching as his face turns red and his cheeks become slick with human tears and screams while his crew and ship are destroyed in a fireball, then nothing. Perhaps he’ll stop once his vocal cords have hemorrhaged and he can no longer make a sound.

It is amusing to watch the great Jim Kirk crumble to his knees, unable to keep himself upright as he sobs. 

Khan rises from the captain’s chair and saunters over to Jim, who doesn’t notice his presence or anything else. How fitting to see one of Starfleet’s finest without the things that define him. He grabs a chunk of Jim’s hair, jerking his head back so that Khan is looking right into his eyes. “Have I got your attention now?” Khan inquires as Jim continues to cry. He doesn’t wait for an answer.

He doubts Jim could give him one.

Pulling the young man to his feet by his bicep, Khan leads him to the brig. Jim doesn’t fight back; he looks over his shoulder towards the viewscreen, hoping in vain that his screw is somehow still alive. He has his way with the distraught man inside one of the cells, enjoying Jim’s agonized cries and the mere fact that Khan has taken everything from him. 

Khan doesn’t stop. He loves every reaction he manages to rile from Jim: his yelling, his weak punches that do nothing, his pained screaming.

And of course the sobbing; it’s Khan’s favorite.   
  
He has no other plan for Jim’s presence on the _Vengeance_  other than for his own entertainment and needs. Khan cares naught for his prisoner’s mental health because he’s just a warm body. Besides, watching the resolve Starfleet built over time crumble is the fun part. Months go by until Jim no longer reacts to Khan or his surroundings. He's become a lifeless, vacant shell; useless scraps of a man who was once a leader. 

“I’m going to sell you,” Khan whispers into Jim’s ear as he undresses him for the hundredth time, for the last time. “And when your new master is having their way with you, you’ll remember that you were once a great man. A strong man and that I was the one who took it all away.”  
  
Khan sells him at a cheap price to an Orion slave trader who is more than happy to add the human to his menagerie of slaves. Jim becomes an afterthought and Khan finds a safe haven in space, readying his ship for when his crew can be awakened.

It’s a long, tedious process but he does not want to disappoint them. After all, it needs to be perfect. The day arrives for him to open the seventy-two torpedoes and welcome his family home. Except as Khan opens the torpedoes, they are empty. Every single one of them. It takes him only a millisecond to realize that they had perished on the _Enterprise_.  
  
So he goes back to the Orion slave trader though hunting him down is not an easy task, and demands to have Jim back. When he’s told that Jim has been sold, Khan is not surprised and it only fuels his thirst for revenge.

He has the buyer partially identified; a Lord Marshal for the Necromongers. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find him. 

And Khan _will_ find him.  
  
And he will torture him until James T. Kirk begs for death.

 

* * *

  
The press of Jim’s back against his chest wakes Vaako.

As Vaako’s eyes flutter open to a darkened bedchamber, he curls into the rise and fall with each breath Jim takes since proximity is no longer an issue between them. It is true that they have shared a bed, though they each kept to their own side. If either of them made contact with the other, it was inadvertent and done while they were sleeping. “Computer, lights at fifteen percent,” he orders quietly so he doesn’t wake Jim.

The lights come on, illuminating Jim’s bedchambers. Vaako squeezes his eyes shut and presses his face into Jim’s shoulder blade where the clean scent of his slave’s skin greets him. Propping himself up, Vaako gazes as the other man’s sleeping face, watching as his lashes break over the tops of his cheekbones. Before he can stop himself, he reaches out to trace the slope of Jim’s brow bone and down the bridge of his nose. As he reaches the tip, Jim snuffles and presses himself into Vaako with a tired groan.

“Are you watching me sleep?” Jim mumbles before yawning.  
  
“And if I am?” Vaako asks, placing his hand on a freckled patch of Jim’s arm.  
  
Jim yawns again. “Then you’re creepier than I thought,” he teases as his eyes blink open. He grins boyishly.   
  
“I _am_ a Necromonger,” Vaako reminds him.  
  
“I haven’t forgotten.”  
  
Vaako raises a brow. “If my staring truly makes you uncomfortable, then I shall stop,” he says, watching Jim as he shifts onto his back.  
  
“It’s fine,” Jim says. He licks his full lips nervously as he takes one of Vaako’s hands in his. “I’m just not used to it.” Instead of questioning Jim’s statement, Vaako leans down to kiss him. When they part to breathe, he buries his face in the curve of Jim’s neck. “Are you on duty today?” Jim asks.  
  
Vaako lifts his head. “Why do you ask?”  
  
“You mentioned something about a tour of the ship yesterday before…” Jim flushes an attractive shade of pink as a glimmer of remembrance and desire brightens his eyes.  
  
“So I did,” Vaako says, cupping Jim’s cheek. “I can arrange for one after we have broken our fast and suitably attired.”  
  
Jim arches a brow. “Just like that?” he asks, surprised. “Don’t you need to fill out paperwork or have me wear a collar?”  
  
Vaako laughs. “I would _never_ collar you,” he says. “And something tells me that you wouldn’t appreciate it, little dove.” He places a gentle kiss to Jim’s temple before untangling himself from the other man. Vaako takes pride in the sound of dismay that Jim makes as he rises out of bed to retrieve his discarded sleep pants. He goes to the door and upon it sliding open finds Slav and Ygritte in the main room. Vaako clears his throat and nods when they greet him. “Please have my clothes brought to Jim’s room as well as breakfast,” he commands. “And Ygritte, see that he is given attire suitable for wandering the ship.”  
  
“Yes my lord,” she says with a nod of her head.  
  
Vaako doesn’t wait to watch them leave and lets the door shut behind him. Jim sits up in bed and stares at him with great interest. “What is it, little dove?” he asks.  
  
“Why do you call me that?” Jim counters softly.  
  
Vaako raises a brow as he strips off the sleep pants to prepare for a shower. His attendants already know what carnal activities he has been participating in, so it would not matter if they see him naked. “What do I call you?”  
  
“Little dove.”  
  
Bunching his sleep pants in his hands, Vaako shrugs. “I will tell you,” he says with a smirk. “ _After_ breakfast.” 

They each shower, doing it separately. Jim emerges from the bath chamber as Slav finishes assisting Vaako with buttoning the cuffs of his jacket. “What about your armor, my lord?” Slav asks.  
  
Vaako shakes his head. “Not today,” he replies before turning to Jim. “I had Ygritte fetch you something more suitable for venturing out on the ship.” He gestures towards the clothing laid out on the bed. Jim nods as he walks over to inspect it, gingerly touching the dark fabric. “Is it to your standards?” Vaako asks as he silently dismisses Slav.  
  
Jim turns to see the door slide shut before looking directly at Vaako. “This is yours,” he says.  
  
“It is,” Vaako replies as he comes up behind him. “I will have something like it made for you if you wish.”  
  
He spies a smile on Jim’s lips before he lowers his eyes. “Doesn’t it reflect your status as Lord Marshal?”  
  
“It does not,” he replies as he winds his hands around Jim’s waist and removes his towel, letting it fall to the floor. “Besides, everyone on the _Basilica_ knows my status without my having to adorn myself.” Vaako reaches out the first article of clothing, undergarments, and kneels down to allow Jim to step through the leg holes before sliding them up to his waist. Next are the black slacks, followed by a matching shirt with a high collar.  
  
“It’s strange for you to be dressing me,” Jim comments as he adjusts the shirt over his torso.  
  
He chuckles in reply. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I plan on removing them as well.”  
  
Once they have finished dressing Jim and they have eaten, Vaako leads the young man out of his quarters. He notices his wide-eyed looks but does not comment. He admits that the ship is impressive; after all, it is the flagship of the Necromonger armada. 

“This vessel holds the Necropolis, the center of our empire and our place of worship,” Vaako explains as they stop. He watches Jim touch the sculpted metal structures in awe. “Covu the Transcended, the first Lord Marshal, created the structure on the tallest mountain on Asylum, which was incorporated to what you see now.”  
  
Jim looks at him. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” he says as his eyes dart around. “Starfleet ships are impressive, but this is a city.”  
  
“Unlike Terrans, we did not have an origin planet,” Vaako says as Jim wanders from him to look up at the ceiling, taking in the Necromonger teachings etched into the metal. “For those of us who serve the armada, we make our home here.” 

Jim does not reply. He is too squinting up at the teachings in an effort to try to read them, looking wholly out of place amongst their dark surroundings. Vaako briefly considered having Jim undergo Purification, but decided against it. In truth, he found his slave’s coloring attractive and worried about what the process may do to it. Pale skin may suit him, but Jim would lose the luster of his blue eyes. 

And some things are not meant to be altered.

“Those are the Necromonger teachings,” Vaako tells him as he walks over to Jim, nodding his head at passing subjects.  
  
“How many Lord Marshals have there been?” Jim asks absently, his attention mostly on the ceiling.  
  
“There were seven before myself, though Lord Marshal Riddick never gave the sacred oath,” the Necromonger explains, earning a curious look from Jim. “If you are wondering, he is still alive. My ascension was a peaceful one.”  
  
Jim nods. “That must have been unusual.”  
  
“It was, but that can be good,” Vaako says as he leans in, closing in on Jim’s personal space. “Your presence among us, for instance. It is just as unusual.”  
  
Jim looks at him, heatedly. “You don’t seem to mind,” he counters.  
  
“I don’t,” Vaako whispers into his ear and earns a shiver. He grins as he back away and begins to walk. “Come. There is more for you to see.” 

They venture to the shuttle bay, which unsurprisingly Jim remembers very little of. Vaako explains the different classifications of Necromonger armada vessels and allows Jim to go inside several of them to get a better look.  
  
“So what does a Lord Marshal _do_?” Jim asks as he steps down the ladder of a Necromonger Fighter.  
  
Vaako smirks. “I thought you knew.”  
  
“I know what we were told, which wasn’t much. You’re still a mystery to Starfleet,” Jim replies as he circles around the fighter, his hand skimming over its skin as he walks. “The waging a crusade against humanity, bringing all converts to the Underverse, it’s the only rank that cannot be superseded. But what do you when you’re not conquering? I can’t believe that you just sit around.”  
  
Vaako laughs, the sound echoing in the shuttle bay. “No, I don’t sit around in between invasions, little dove,” he says as he follows Jim. “My rank is similar to those of a Terran bishop, but my duties are more reflective of an admiral.”  
  
“You conquer planets,” Jim remarks.  
  
“This is true, but there are tactics used when planning an invasion and they must be planned with the utmost care,” Vaako explains. “This empire and the Federation are not all that different. While the Federation has its Starfleet to explore new systems and initiate first contact with new life forms, we do the same…just with military force.”  
  
Jim nods as he stares at the spacecraft in front of them. “There was an admiral who had plans to militarize Starfleet,” he says quietly. “He’s dead now.”  
  
“I am sorry to hear that.”  
  
“Don’t be.”  
  
Vaako crosses his arms over his chest. “He was not a friend I take it?”  
  
“No,” Jim replies, his voice trembling. “If he hadn’t…”  
  
Vaako watches Jim gnaw on his lower lip, trying to suppress his emotions from prying eyes. “Was he the one who set your current circumstances in motion?” 

There is a nod of acknowledgment and a single tear that falls down Jim’s cheek before he wipes it away. Jim gulps, managing to contain his sadness as quickly as it came turning back to Vaako. “What else do you want to show me?” he asks with false cheer.  
  
Skipping the bridge and the healers bay as access is highly restricted, they decide to view the armory before they go back to Vaako’s quarters. When they arrive, Vaako finds Toal standing off to the side with his usual dour glare. It softens some when he notices Vaako before he lifts his eyebrows in surprise upon seeing Jim. 

“Commander Toal, this is Jim Kirk,” Vaako says. He spies the confused expression on Jim’s face as the two shake hands as if he’s trying to place where he has seen Toal. “You have met before, but were not formally introduced.”  
  
Jim and Toal nod at each other before Toal says, “My thanks for keeping our Lord Marshal safe from that assassin. You were very quick on your feet despite your ill health; it was quite impressive.”  
  
“You’re welcome,” Jim quietly replies.  
  
“Perhaps when old man Cavan allows it, we could spar,” Toal suggests. He casts a smirk at Vaako. “I am very curious of this boast that Lord Vaako has made of your hand-to-hand combat skills.”  
  
Jim glances at Vaako, before turning back to Toal. “When Lord Healer Cavan allows it,” he answers neutrally. “If I may be excused to look around…”  
  
“You may,” Vaako says immediately. Jim nods and gives them both a tight smile before he wanders off to explore.  
  
“He’s quite fetching in our attire,” Toal comments, much to Vaako’s chagrin.  
  
Vaako glares at him. “What is it? You have that look about you.”  
  
“If we may speak now,” Toal says, dropping his voice. “I have something of great importance to discuss with you.”  
  
Vaako nods. “What has happened?”  
  
“I kept some eyes and ears on guard with Federation communications as a precautionary measure,” Toal explains. “In case if someone were to find out that your slave is alive.”  
  
“Go on.”  
  
Toal folds his arms over his chest and leans in. “It seems that Starfleet was dispatched for a fairly new settlement in the Beta Quadrant where an Orion slave trader was murdered.”  
  
“Unhappy customer, rebellious slave…it could be anyone,” Vaako says as his stomach starts to twist. “But it’s not just anyone, is it?”  
  
Toal shakes his head. “No,” he replies. “There are rumors of a man, a very pale man with the strength of a hundred Necromonger soldiers, who was inquiring about a Terran male slave that was not found in the facility.”  
  
“Khan,” Vaako whispers, gripping the edge of his desk as his blood boils. He looks up at Toal. “Find out how true these rumors are. I want you to find out everything you can: when, how many people were with him. If he was told about the buyer… _anything_ you can get your hands on without alerting the Federation or Starfleet.”  
  
“He’s just one man, Siberius.”  
  
“He is a dangerous man who destroyed a Starfleet vessel and her crew single-handedly!” Vaako counters, raising his voice. He tenses and clears his throat. “From what Jim has said, which is very little, Khan is an enemy that is not to be underestimated. We must proceed with caution.”  
  
Toal nods. “Of course,” he agrees. “And what if your slave? Will you tell him what I have told you?”  
  
“No,” Vaako replies, standing up straight and shaking his head. “No. I’d rather inform him when we are certain that it’s Khan.”  
  
“Something tells me that he won’t like that.”  
  
“Well…I’d rather have evidence that Khan has found his scent and is trailing Jim like a hellhound before causing him further distress,” Vaako states.  
  
Toal sighs heavily and shrugs. “I am sorry to deliver this news,” he says.  
  
“No, I am glad you did.”  
  
Toal smiles grimly. “I will report back as soon as I have more information to confirm or dispel this rumor.”  
  
As Vaako takes Jim back to his quarters and leaves him with the excuse of having to handle minor problem within the fleet, he hopes it’s the latter.


	9. gladius

It feels strange for Jim to find himself alone in bed without Vaako lying next to him. 

After spending days sleeping alongside Vaako, it’s disconcerting to wake up with the other side of the bed cold and empty. There are no telltale signs that the Necromonger came in during the night and left before he woke. Not even an indentation on the pillow or his scent lingering on the sheets. Something twists inside of Jim as he stares at the spot Vaako occupied less than twenty-four hours ago. 

When Jim had woken up to the Necromonger tracing his profile while he was safely nestled in his arms.  
  
Jim swallows when he bitterly remembers that he’s _just_ a pleasure slave, perhaps a companion on the best days. While Vaako’s affections seemed genuine enough, he is still his property. He wonders if he wants their arrangement to be _more_  than it is because Vaako shares a face (and perhaps a few mannerisms) with Bones. In the end, they are vastly different; a proverbial night and day. The darkness in Vaako tempers Jim’s grief and anger.  
  
Jim gets out of bed and wanders towards Vaako’s chambers. It’s still early and the attendants have yet to arrive, leaving just the two of them in the Lord Marshal’s quarters. It’s dark when the door slides open. “Lights fifteen percent,” Jim orders. Everything is in its usual, methodical place. Except one thing is glaringly obvious: the bed is empty. He goes up to it and touches the linens, noting that Vaako hasn’t slept here either. His brows wrinkle in confusion as he retracts his hand and surveys the room. He scratches his jaw as he walks into the main room, where Jim spies light streaming from beyond the door of Vaako’s study. 

He goes to it while his mother’s voice tells him that’s only polite before entering a room. He’s never been one to follow the rules as he steps in front of the door and watches it slide open. Like the rest of his life, she’s long gone and Jim is alone.  
  
Vaako sits at the desk looking over a data tablet, seemingly lost in thought. His expression reminds Jim of how Bones looked when he was concentration; how his eyebrows furrowed into a frown and his lips pressed into a line thin. On anyone else it would be unattractive, but on both men…it is oddly alluring. 

“Is it your usual wont to wander around half dressed, little dove?” Vaako asks before raising his eyes. He looks over Jim’s bare torso and the black sleep pants slung low on his hips.  
  
Jim shrugs. “Depends on where I am,” he says. He wiggles his brows with a devious smirk. “Sometimes I walk around naked.” His joke earns a sharp eye roll and muttering of insults under Vaako’s breath as he leans back in his seat. “You didn’t come to bed last night,” Jim remarks in a casual tone as he walks up to the desk, remembering how he had knelt in front of Vaako only days before.  
  
Vaako turns his attention back to his tablet. “I didn’t go to my own bed either,” he replies.  
  
“I know,” Jim tells him. “I checked your chambers.”  
  
Vaako arches a brow as he looks up at Jim, his dark eyes are unreadable whereas Bones’ were expressive and could tell Jim what the man was thinking within seconds. Jim’s stomach knots with worry as he wonders if he’s overstepped his boundaries—which are already blurred to begin with—and now will find himself on the receiving end of a Necromonger’s temper. 

 _I_ _t can’t be as bad as others_ , he thinks to himself.

Vaako sets the tablet down and crooks his finger, beckoning Jim to come forward. He watches him as Jim walks around the desk, moving his chair away to give him some room. Jim sees the edges of Vaako’s lips curl into the faintest smile as he stands between his spread legs. He’s removed his jacket, having cast aside it on a nearby chair.

“Is everything okay?” he asks. 

Vaako shrugs and places his hands on Jim’s hips, gently kneading them before tugging him forward. Jim can feel the Necromonger’s breath dancing across his skin seconds before his lips. He closes his eyes as Vaako nibbles and sucks, creating a bruise on the crest of his right hip and igniting his arousal. That mouth is deadly to his senses and willingly makes him submit to Vaako’s whims and needs. His cock starts to become heavy between his thighs, twitching as the other man’s mouth dances across his pelvis to manipulate a matching bruise on his left hip. Jim gasps as Vaako cups and squeezes his ass, silently urging him closer. He doesn’t dare touch him back since the Lord Marshal has made it clear that he’s in charge during this encounter. It’s a little strange since Jim has always taken lead with his sexual partners. Sure, there were the women who wanted to be on top and men who fucked him, but Jim was always in control, the instigator, the master of ceremonies. 

Until Khan, who took away Jim’s free will with violent force. 

Then there’s Vaako who gives it back, holding it safe with words and comforting gestures.  
  
Jim groans as the Necromonger’s tongue licks a path up to his navel and teases it with the sharp edge of his teeth. After a few swipes of his tongue over the protrusion, Vaako’s mouth moves more fervently and his hands have slipped inside of Jim’s sleep pants, his fingers digging into the curve of his ass. He watches Vaako take his time undressing him, inching the sleep pants down his body and mouthing the skin the fabric exposes.

Jim knows that his breathing has become anticipatory panting, matching the constant throb of arousal in his groin. He moans as his sleep pants pool at his feet, leaving him naked and vulnerable to Vaako’s whims.  
  
“On the desk,” Vaako commands, voice strained. The sound of it makes Jim go hot all over. As soon as Jim’s ass hits the smooth wood, Vaako is all over him. He drags his lips up Jim’s body until he captures his mouth with his own, debauching it with the precision he used just moments before. Grasping Vaako’s arms and wrapping his legs around his waist, Jim pulls him closer and curses as his erection brushes against the rough material of Vaako’s clothing. Vaako growls in reply, placing his hand in the center of Jim’s chest and teases his neck, then begins his descent downward. 

Jim swallows as Vaako closes the distance to his cock. He thinks he might explode if Vaako doesn’t touch him soon. “Please,” he moans. “Please…”  
  
Vaako looks up at him with a dark glint in his eyes. He grins at Jim’s begging before he licks a stripe from the tip to base of Jim’s cock. Jim howls as he grips the desk and throwing his head back as Vaako’s mouth keeps going lower. He lavishes his sack, presses his tongue over his perineum, and, oh god, he needs more! “Please… _fuck_ ,” Jim babbles desperately. “Please, _please_ , please.”  
  
Vaako’s tongue pushes against his puckered hole and Jim loses himself. He knows Vaako hold his legs and cheeks apart while Jim’s whimpers fill the study. He finds his cock and begins stroking. Vaako doesn’t stop him. He knows it’s too much at once and he’s going to cum.

“Siberius,” Jim gasps before he cums. He spills onto his stomach and fingers, not caring if it smears into his skin. He realizes that Vaako is far from finished with him as fingers breach him along Vaako’s tongue, stretching Jim open for his cock. 

Then his tongue… _fuck his tongue._  

Vaako laps up the cum on Jim’s stomach, teasing every ridge of his abdominal muscles. It sends waves of pleasure through Jim, despite how sensitive he feels from climax. Vaako continues his upward travels back to Jim’s mouth where he kisses him dirty and deep while he continues to finger his hole. 

He tastes of Jim and _only_ Jim.  
  
Clutching his shoulder, Jim uses their leverage to rock himself against Vaako’s hand. The sensations burst with white sparks behind closed lids, eventually, bringing his cock roaring back to life. It’s all part of Vaako’s devious plan to debauch him—that much Jim knows—but he doesn’t care as the other man slicks himself up and pushes into the loose, pink rimmed muscle of his opening. Jim manages to get Vaako’s shirt off of his pale torso before things go into overdrive.

As Vaako fucks into him, Jim muses that there is no in between with them—either stop or go—and he _loves_ it.  
  
More than he’s ever willing to admit, though Jim’s sure that Vaako is aware of it.  
  
When he cums for the second time, Jim cries out for Vaako and makes sure that his voice rings in his ears.

  
 

* * *

 

If someone were to find them lying behind the desk they had sex on, they would probably think that Jim and Vaako were mad. 

Jim doesn’t care what others think. Not when his limbs are entwined with Vaako’s under a throw blanket that was once artfully draped over the chaise lounge, covering what needs to be from prying eyes. Vaako’s fingers part his sweaty hair to massage his scalp while Jim pillows his head on his shoulder, dozing off to the slow, easy motions. It’s as intimate as the act sex of itself, perhaps more so, as it’s the closest to completely relaxed that Jim has ever seen Vaako.

He appreciates the silence between them and the thrum of Vaako’s heart beating against his ear. “I can hear you thinking, little dove,” Vaako informs him.  
  
Jim snorts. “That’s not how I envisioned starting my day off,” he admits.  
  
“Perhaps you should be a bit more imaginative.”  
  
Jim rolls his eyes and pinches Vaako’s side, earning a half-hearted tug of his hair. “You didn’t answer my question earlier,” he says after a few minutes.  
  
“No, I did not,” Vaako replies, his tone still light. “I lost track of time and slept in here. I’m sure you know how that is.”  
  
Jim nods, swallowing down the pangs of sadness and pressing himself closer to Vaako’s body. He closes his eyes and lets the warmth of him sink into his skin, trying to will away memories of a life that no longer exists.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Vaako apologizes. “That was callous of me.”  
  
“It’s fine,” Jim lies. He smiles tightly and lays his head back down. “Anyways, I’m just a slave. I should know my place, right?”  
  
“You’re so much more than a slave, little dove,” Vaako replies, squeezing the back of his neck. The gesture is reminiscent of Bones, so gentle and reassuring, yet unassuming. He can’t bear to look at Vaako because he’ll expect to see his friend, only to find a pale face and dark eyes instead. Or perhaps it’s because he wants it to mean more than it does. 

Jim closes his eyes against the sting of tears and allows himself to indulge in the Lord Marshal’s attention until there is a discreet knock on the door before it slides open.  
  
“My lord,” says the attendant known as Slav. “Your presence is needed on the bridge.”  
  
Vaako groans in frustration. “Tell them I shall be there shortly,” he says as he nudges Jim off of him and sits up.  
  
“I have taken the liberties of laying out a fresh uniform in your bedchamber, my lord,” Slav adds.  
  
Jim spies Vaako rolling his eyes before he palms his face. “Yes, thank you,” he replies in a tone that also means ‘go away’. Vaako sighs as the attendant leaves them alone. “Duty.”  
  
“It calls,” Jim whispers, avoiding the Lord Marshal’s eyes.  
  
Vaako lifts his chin with a finger. “Is there anything I can do to ease your melancholy?”  
  
_Don’t go_ , Jim thinks. _Stay here with me. Show me that I’m more than just a slave._ He shrugs instead, swallowing down his feelings. “Commander Toal mentioned that he would spar with me once Lord Healer Cavan permitted it,” he says.  
  
“I shall have Lord Healer Cavan come assess your health,” he says with a grin before drawing Jim into a kiss. “And after you have sparred with Toal, I will tend to your wounds with my lips and tongue.”  
  
“I’m not an object,” Jim snaps, earning a surprised glare from Vaako. “Or your puppet.”  
  
Vaako takes a step back, dropping his arms at his sides. “I was not inferring that you were.”  
  
“You treat me like one,” he counters. “Like I’m your shiny new toy that you’ll let your friends play with.”  
  
“Toal only wished to spar with you after hearing about your high marks at Starfleet Academy,” Vaako explains evenly. “The decision was entirely up to _you_ and _you_ only.”  
  
Whatever sharp retort Jim had on his tongue is gone now, leaving his gasping like a fish of water. “Oh,” he says dumbly.  
  
“Yes,” Vaako sighs as he grabs his discarded pants and hastily pulls them on. “Oh.”  
  
Jim watches him get dressed, feeling like the brat that Bones had frequently accused him of being. Instead of firing back, he remains unusually silent.  
  
“I must go,” Vaako tells him.  
  
Jim bites his lower lip and nods. “Yeah,” he says to Vaako’s back as he goes to the door. “I’ll be here when you return.” He watches the other man exit through the door, feeling like he’s been punched in the gut. “It’s not like I have anywhere else I need to be,” he whispers to an otherwise empty room.

 

* * *

  
Vaako returns to his quarters to the sound of Lord Healer Cavan and Healer Edit’s voices coming from Jim’s bedchamber.

He stands just out of view, listening to the healers speaking amongst themselves while Jim remains silent. He had hoped that sending Cavan posthaste would lighten the younger man’s bad mood, but clearly, Vaako had dismissed Jim’s turmoil as him being childish. Vaako chides himself silent because it’s a lie. He hated himself the moment he left Jim while he was still in a vulnerable and angry state, especially after the way their morning started off.

Vaako knows that he shouldn’t care if his slave is upset and any other Necromonger would whip him into submission. They wouldn’t supply them with the comforts befitting a consort by gifting them books or chess sets to ease the sickness of being far from home. Nor would they be quick to defend them against the onslaught of depraved comments about their abilities in the bedchamber. 

Or given them a pet name, as if he was a treasured object.  
  
He knew from the moment he laid eyes on Jim that he was going about this the wrong way. To hide his folly, he insisted that it was his fight and good looks that intrigued him, then later his intelligence. Now Vaako knows that Jim has bewitched him, body and soul; it’s the very thing he had teased the captain about over dinner. 

He’s no longer a slave…he’s something more…something else.  
  
“Smile, boy,” Cavan demands as a case shuts. “I’ve just cleared you to go get yourself beaten up to a pulp! Surely a young man like yourself would be pleased with the prospect.” 

Vaako decides that it’s the right time to make his return known, even if Jim is still wrought with him. He steps in front of the threshold, peering inside of the room and catching Healer Edit’s attention. She bows her head in acknowledgment. 

“Ah,” Cavan says as he closes a tricorder case. “You have returned.”  
  
Vaako nods. “So I have,” he replies as Jim turns his head and their eyes meet.  
  
“You will be pleased to know that your slave boy is fully healed,” Cavan tells Vaako as he putters around the room, searching for his instruments.  
  
Vaako breaks his gaze to look at Cavan. “His name is James,” he states. “And you will address him as such.”  
  
“My apologies,” Cavan replies with a roll of his eyes before giving Jim a genuine smile. “It seems that he’s changed his mind about you, boy.” 

Jim remains silent, sitting shirtless for Cavan’s exam. Only his eyes conveying his perplexity at Vaako’s reaction while Vaako ignores the comment altogether. This, whatever it is, is between _them_ , not everyone else on the fleet. 

“Hmph,” Cavan grunts at the silence that takes over the room. “Suit yourselves. Edit, we must return to the healer’s bay and let these two end their lover’s quarrel.”  
  
Jim’s head snaps around. “It is not a _lover’s quarrel_!” he hisses.  
  
“Oh yes,” Cavan says with a chuckle. “Just an argument between two men who leave love bites on each other.” 

Edit covers her grin with a hand to muffle the giggle that escapes. The moment she catches Vaako’s eye, she ducks her head and suddenly seems very busy. 

The healers leave shortly after. Vaako can feel the tension resonating in the air, thick and sticky like the warmer seasons on New Mecca.  
  
“It’s _not_ a lover’s quarrel,” Jim hisses as he pulls his tunic over his head.

Vaako hears his muttering under his breath, a very clear indication that he’s still vexed from this morning. “I never said it was,” Vaako replies.  
  
“Good,” Jim snaps. He pushes himself off the bed and brushes pass Vaako, their shoulders bumping. “We would need to be lovers in the first place.”  
  
Vaako catches the piercing glare and the fury radiating from Jim’s blue eyes. “You are trying to provoke me, little dove,” he says. “It will not work, no matter how hard you try to earn my wrath.”  
  
“Stop calling me that,” Jim growls in frustration. “I’m not your _pet_.”  
  
“I am aware since pets do not talk back,” Vaako tells Jim and watches him stalk the room. “You asked me why I called you that…”  
  
“And you never told me, so _whatever_ ,” Jim says flippantly.  
  
Vaako’s brow twitches. “In Necromonger culture, doves symbolize weakness and fragility,” he explains, watching as the frown on Jim’s face deepens. “However in Terran society, they mean a variety of things: devotion, divinity, holiness, sacrifice, ascension, purification… _hope_.” He watches Jim pale as he says the words and sees that his lips are parted in astonishment. “You embody all of these meanings and that is why I bestow you with this name,” Vaako says quietly. He lowers his eyes, trying not to stare at Jim directly for fear of what the other man will see.

Maybe his own vulnerability and fear of rejection. He isn’t ready to show these emotions, especially when he’s not certain what they mean. Could he be falling in love with Jim? Is it even possible? Vaako doesn’t know.  
  
He hears Jim struggling to speak, but words fail him. Vaako glances up to see a pair of blue eyes bright with tears and grows uncomfortable for causing Jim further distress. “Toal will be by tomorrow to take you to the armory so you may spar with him,” he tells him, trying to keep a conversational tone. “Good evening.”  
  
Vaako leaves the room without saying another word or looking back, though the latter proves to be a matter of sheer will. He doesn’t want to listen to Jim as he swallows back a sob or watch tears as they fall down his cheeks.   
  
As he walks to his bedchamber, Vaako has a feeling that neither man will sleep well tonight.


	10. defunctio

As his ship cuts through space like a perfectly sharpened knife, Khan lounges in the captain’s chair, slouching slightly against the leather as it molds to his body. 

Tracking down the Lord Marshal who purchased Jim hadn’t been all that difficult; in fact, he feels that it was  _too_ easy. And Khan does live for a challenge.   
  
Only one of them exists; a man who goes by the name Siberius Vaako. Fro the various whispers and rumors, Khan learns that this Lord Marshal is a fearsome creature who leaves a broken path of destruction in his wake. He worships death and has very little scruples; Khan likes him already. He’s unfamiliar with these humanoids but finds them intriguing nonetheless. The information he was able to find on Federation databases was scant at best, though it doesn’t surprise him. Perhaps once he makes the acquaintance of this Lord Vaako, they can chat about mutual aspirations.

After all, Khan has a feeling that they may be perfectly aligned.   
  
After murdering the Orion slave trader, he hadn’t stayed long enough to find out how much his former pet sold for. With Jim’s pretty blue eyes and boyish good looks, Khan thinks he fetched for a good price. He suspects that Vaako may not be so willing to hand Jim over, but perhaps with some persuasion (or forceful, if necessary), the Lord Marshal would acquiesce to Khan’s request. Besides, the thought of taking Jim apart—fingers, toes, limbs—and sending the pieces back, one by one, to Starfleet until they finally have a full body to identify would be the icing on the cake of Khan’s revenge.  
  
He will enjoy the sound of Jim’s screams and the sight of his tears as he did once before. Then he will delight in killing him. 

Khan’s lips curl into a sneer as he palms the leather armrest. “Computer,” he drawls. “Have you picked up further transmissions of Necromonger activity?”  
  
“Last transmission of Necromonger activity was received from galactic location: six, forty-one, thirty-six point seven, negative fifty, fifty-seven, fifty-eight,” the computer says. “Carina Dwarf Spheroidal galaxy.”  
  
His brows raise in surprise. “Really,” he muses to no one. “Computer set a course for Carina Dwarf at Warp Eight.” Khan raises from his seat as the _Vengeance_  smoothly propels itself into warp, just like he designed it to.  
  
“And keep monitoring all frequencies for Necromonger activity,” Khan says as he approaches the view screen. “I want to be notified as soon as we come across their armada.”

 

* * *

  
After a long day with very little sleep, Vaako heads back to his quarters when he meets Edit, the healer with green eyes who has been Jim’s companion during and since his recovery. 

The healers are a new, though welcomed addition to the Necromongers and an example of the changes Riddick had brought forth before Vaako became Lord Marshal. They had been persecuted on their homeworld for their mysterious ways and use of modern technology versus more socially accepted archaic remedies. When the Necromonger fleet landed and conquered the planet, Riddick had taken pity on the few that were left and gave them a choice: to join the Necromongers and be treated with respect or left to fend for themselves. They had chosen the Necromongers without hesitation and to Vaako’s surprise, Riddick had not forced them to undergo Purification.  
  
_“We make all of our subjects do it,” Vaako argued in the privacy of Riddick’s quarters._  
  
_Riddick raised a brow. “All of them?” he countered with a sly grin as he drank out of his goblet and relaxed into his seat._  
  
_“You will one day,” Vaako growled, watching the Furyan closely. “When the time comes, you will follow suit and be glad you did.”_  
  
_Riddick snorted. “Nah,” he said. “It’s not for me, friend, and besides…my stay isn’t for forever. We both know that.”_  
  
_“We are governed by death,” Vaako countered. “You know that! It favors our race, our beliefs, and our entire existence. Surely you cannot be so callous to disregard this!”_  
  
_Riddick’s grin faltered, turning as grim as the darkness Vaako knew he preferred. “Death favors no man,” he told him, staring at Vaako with his silvery eyes. A secretive smile formed on his lips. “One day you’ll see.”_  

At first, it had been disconcerting to see the variety of skin tones and eyes flushed with life and color wandering around the ship, but eventually, became normal and was forgotten until Jim’s arrival. In the end, it was Jim who made Vaako realize that Riddick was right; the pallor of death would not favor him and only hinder his beauty.  
  
“My lord,” Edit greets with a graceful bow, her robes falling over her fair skin.  
  
Vaako nods. “Lady Healer,” he says.  
  
“It is good to see you,” she replies with a smile. “I was just on my way to the armory.”  
  
He raises a brow, noticing that she is not carrying the leather satchel that the healers are accustomed to having with them. “Is someone injured?” he asks.  
  
“No, my lord. Commander Toal and your sl— _James—_ are sparring,” Edit answers carefully, gauging his reaction. “Lord Healer Cavan asked me to attend to ensure that no one gets grievously injured.”  
  
It doesn’t surprise Vaako to hear that Toal has been quick to get Jim down to the armory; his friend has always been an impatient, zealous fool. He’s been that way since they were children and if an opponent crossed his path, Toal was quick to fight them. Why should sparring with Jim, a Starfleet captain, be any different? “Is that so?” he comments.  
  
“Yes my lord,” Edit says.  
  
“I shall accompany you,” he tells her. “I would like to see Toal beaten at his own game. It may take his ego down a few pegs.”  
  
Edit’s lips quirk a grin, but she says nothing as they walk towards the armory. After several minutes, she turns to him. “If my lord allows it, may I be candid?”  
  
“You may,” he says.  
  
Edit smiles in thanks. “Did you and James resolve your quarrel from the evening before last?” she asks.  
  
It takes Vaako aback with astonishment for a moment or three before he shakes his head. “No,” he replies, darkly. “No, we did not.”  
  
They lapse into silence once more before Edit says, “He cares about you.” She cuts Vaako’s defensive eye roll with a penetrating stare. “He does. I have seen how James looks at you or how he perks up when someone mentions your name.”  
  
“It’s what he’s trained to do,” Vaako retorts.  
  
“He was trained to be a _captain_ ,” she counters, earning Vaako’s shock. Edit has always struck him as even-keeled, but never headstrong. The way she conducts herself rivals many of the diplomats he encounters on a daily basis; perhaps if she had chosen differently, her path would have taken her towards one in politics. “You truly believe that I spent all that time with him while he was ill and do not learn a single thing?” She tilts her head while Vaako struggles to reply and she sighs. “We spoke when he was lucid,” Edit explains. “And sometimes when he was not and required comfort during his hallucinations.”  
  
“And what did he call you during the latter?”  
  
“Nyota,” the healer says wistfully. “It means _star_ in the Terran language Swahili. You are not the only learned individual on this ship, my lord.”  
  
Vaako raises a brow. “I suppose not,” he replies. “Who was this Nyota?”  
  
“An officer and a friend,” Edit tells him. “James grieves her death as well as others, though it does not prevent him from developing feelings for you.”  
  
“I remind him of his doctor.”  
  
“Perhaps once that was true, but his emotions have ebbed and flowed as yours has done for him.”  
  
Vaako inhales sharply and turns to her with wide eyes. “You are close to overstepping your bounds,” he warns.  
  
This doesn’t deter her. “Then tell me I’m wrong, my lord,” Edit says as they arrive outside the armory. With a knowing smile, she bows before dismissing herself from his presence and joining several other healers who watch the proceedings.  
  
Vaako grumbles to himself before walking over to two members of his command crew, Asim Basit and Hadad Kaveh, who watch the sparring floor with rapt fascination. He notices that the crowd is mostly quiet, save for the murmurs of spectators. It is strange as the Necromongers are usually a boisterous crowd,  _especially_ when it comes to a good fight.

On the sparring floor, Jim and Toal hold Necro Spears as they circle each other. Under the lights of the armory, Vaako makes out the sheen of sweat on Jim’s bare arms and the tightness of muscles as he eases into an unfamiliar stance. There is an unfamiliar coldness in his eyes that Vaako has never seen before _—_ one could call it composed or methodical. He moves like an animal stalking his prey while his stare never breaks, even as he dodges a thrust of Toal’s spear. It’s just another glimpse of Jim as a Starfleet captain _—_ a pretty picture that no longer exists. Or perhaps, it still does.

“My lord, your slave is giving Toal a run for his credits,” says Asim, his deep voice rumbling in amusement.  
  
Vaako nods absently. “So he is,” he replies, his eyes never leaving Jim’s face.  
  
Hadad raises his brow. “It seems that Terrans _can_ fight,” he interjects.  
  
“You were there the night he dispatched the assassin,” Vaako reminds him.  
  
Hadad smiles. “I was indeed. His form has improved since then, but perhaps it was his ill health that slowed him now?”  
  
“If he was slow that night, I would have been dead,” Vaako says.  
  
Asim snorts. “Better the assassin than you, my lord.”  
  
Vaako is about to reply when he hears a shout of surprise. He turns as Toal sends Jim’s body to the mat with a hard smack against the mats. Jim rolls away, dodging the blunt end of Toal’s spear. Instead of leaping to his feet, Jim uses his position to his advantage by swinging his legs and locking them around Toal’s shins. With a jerk and a startled curse, Toal crumples to the floor while Jim bounces up to jab Toal in the side. The commander blocks it as he stands and charges at Jim. They battle back and forth as if they were dancing.  
  
“Little shit!” Toal growls after his attempt to shove Jim away fails. 

Jim has a smug grin on his face as he propels himself forward and pins Toal back to the mat. Vaako suppresses a snort of laughter as Toal curses as he tries to throw Jim off.  
  
“Careful, boy,” taunts one of the officers. “Toal may bite your head off and feed your body the hellhounds!”  
  
Laughter ripples through the crowd, though it does not faze Jim as he keeps his advantage over the other man. He uses the diversion to kick Toal in the leg. The commander howls and drops his spear to clutch his injured limb. Jim pounces, flipping Toal onto his stomach and holding his arms behind his back. 

Vaako raises a brow as he watches Jim’s lips move as he whispers into Toal’s ear. 

The man grits his teeth and nods begrudgingly. “I yield,” he declares before letting out a sigh of relief as Jim lets go. Toal scowls at him even when Jim offers him a hand up.  
  
The crowd starts to disperse when one of Toal’s minions comes into the armory, carrying a tablet in his hands. He weaves through the crowd, heading straight towards Vaako. “My lord,” he says quietly. “Commander Toal said to show you this as soon as possible.” He thrusts the tablet into Vaako’s hands, his eyes shifting around to make sure that no one can overhear. “It’s in regards to Khan.”  
  
Vaako’s eyes widen as he stares at the young Necromonger before looking at the tablet. As he reads the data, his stomach sinks and his fears become confirmed. Khan is the man who was looking for Jim and murdered the Orion slave trader when he didn’t find him. It seems that one of the Orions had told him who the buyer had been. There was only _one_ Lord Marshal. The man has been resourceful and has found their trail in the darkness of space to hunt down Jim for reasons unknown to Vaako. He can guess what they are, but it only makes his anger and concern grow.  
  
“Our sensors have picked up a Starfleet vessel that has entered Carina Dwarf approximately one hour ago,” he says.  
  
Vaako feels bile rising in his throat and swallows. He glances at Jim, who speaks with Toal and has a grin on his face, unaware of the danger he’s in. “Are you certain?” he asks, not bothering to look away.  
  
“Yes my lord.”  
  
Jim catches him staring and raises a thick brow before turning back to Toal. He  _must_ keep him from Khan by any means necessary.

“I need you to summon the command crew to my ready room as soon as possible,” Vaako orders as he hands the tablet back. “Put us on high alert and notify other ships in the armada of our current situation; no specifics, just a possible enemy headed our way.”  
  
The Necromonger nods. “Yes my lord,” he replies. “I will have your command crew in your ready room, posthaste.”  
  
“Notify Commander Toal and have my slave come with me immediately,” Vaako adds.  
  
The young man nods his head again before hurrying over to Toal and Jim, the former who looks slightly annoyed that his conversation is being interrupted. The young Necromonger speaks, his eyes darting over to Vaako before he hands the tablet over. Toal looks at Jim and says something to him before rushing off with the officer.

Vaako goes to Jim, who glares at him. “Am I not permitted to socialize with others, _my lord_?” he asks sharply, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
He grabs Jim by the wrist, his fingers tight around the slender bone. “Come,” Vaako demands, pulling Jim as he walks.  
  
“What’s going on?” Jim asks, sounding angry as they hurry back to Vaako’s quarters. “What did I do now?”  
  
Vaako rolls his eyes as he yanks Jim closer to his body. “Not now, little dove,” he says, not looking at him.  
  
“Siberius,” Jim snaps, pulling away from him. “What is going on?”  
  
Vaako drags him back, ignoring his yelp, and presses his mouth close the shell of his ear. “You _will be_ silent and do as you’re told,” he warns as they walk into his quarters. Vaako lets go of Jim, pushing him forward. “I want you to be showered and changed into suitable attire in ten minutes, and then you are coming with me.”  
  
“What, did Starfleet find out that I’m alive?” Jim asks as he rubs his wrist. He must notice the flinch that his words cause when Vaako hears them and his expression changes. “Siberius? Is it them? Did Starfleet find me?”  
  
Vaako shakes his head. “Sit,” he commands gently. “Please.” He watches Jim sit down, noting how his features become tense with fear and uncertainty. “After your story was confirmed by Commander Toal, he has kept eyes and ears on Federation and Starfleet channels alike to ensure that if we were to encounter trouble, we would be able to prepare for it.”  
  
“I would have told them that you rescued me…” Jim tells him. “That I was too ill to contact them…they _would_ believe _me_.”  
  
“The Federation and its Starfleet is not our concern,” Vaako says carefully. He gauges Jim’s reaction, waiting for his words to resonate.  
  
Jim’s forehead creases while he contemplates what Vaako’s words, furrowing deeper until his eyes suddenly widen and his jaw drops. He looks up at the Lord Marshal in mute horror. “Khan,” he whispers, growing pale.  
  
“I am sorry,” Vaako murmurs.  
  
Jim only nods in reply before pushing himself off the couch. “I need to go get ready,” he declares gravely.  
  
“James,” Vaako starts to say.  
  
He looks at the Lord Marshal. “You want me to tell you what I know about him; you and your officers,” Jim says to him. “What I know isn’t much, but it could help you more than it helped my crew.”  
  
They find themselves in Vaako’s ready room not even twenty minutes later, surrounded by the Lord Marshal’s command crew. “What do we know right now?” Vaako asks from his seat.  
  
Toal speaks up, “A Starfleet vessel is quickly approaching our airspace. Our projection is that we will have the first contact in approximately two hours. We have scoured what information we have about their spacecraft within our databases, but this ship seems to be a prototype.”  
  
Vaako glances at Jim, who is sitting stoically to his left and nervously rubbing two fingers together. The Necromonger raises a brow, his question asked in silence and gestures. “It’s not a prototype,” Jim replies. “It’s an unmarked Federation starship. There is an undercover organization within Starfleet ranks that operates it…or did.”  
  
“Was this John Harrison… _Khan_ apart of the organization?” asks a lieutenant.  
  
Jim nods. “Against his will,” he says. “But yes…he designed the ship for them.”  
  
“Are we sure he’s on board the ship?” asks another officer.  
  
Toal glances at the Necromonger and nods. “We are positive it’s him. Witnesses have reported him and the ship in the same vicinity.”  
  
“What about his crew?” Jim asks.  
  
Vaako and Toal look at each other before staring at Jim, confused.  
  
“His crew?” Toal asks, nudging his assistant. “What crew?” 

The assistant looks at his tablet, brows raised. “There are no reports of crew members,” he says to Toal.  
  
“That’s not right,” Jim states, confused. “His crew would be with him.”  
  
Vaako frowns. “Tell me about his crew.”  
  
“They are like him _—_ genetically-engineered human augments _._ They were built to be better, faster, and stronger than the rest of us,” Jim explains, breaking his stare from Vaako’s and looks at the Lord Marshal’s command crew. “He hid them in torpedoes _—_ all seventy-two of them _—_ so Admiral Marcus couldn’t harm them. They were beamed on board his ship shortly before… the _Enterprise_ was destroyed.”  
  
The room is filled with silence until Toal says, “No other crew members have been spotted with him.”  
  
“They _are_ on that ship,” Jim counters.  
  
Toal’s assistant shakes his head. “Our long-range scans only picked up one life form on board the ship,” he states quietly.  
  
“That’s _impossible_ ,” Jim snaps as he rises from his seat, going to the viewport. “I saw them beamed on board with my own eyes! Seventy-two torpedoes and _they were on that ship_!”  
  
“Perhaps you were mistaken,” Toal reasons. “Your ship had just been destroyed, your crew killed…”  
  
“They are on that ship!” Jim shouts, spinning around.  
  
Vaako sees the fire in his eyes and the flush of rage on his cheeks. “Perhaps he has programmed the ship’s systems to show only a single life form?”  
  
“He wouldn’t do that,” Jim declares. “He wouldn’t hide his crew, not when he’s just gotten them back. Khan doesn’t need to hide anything because he’s already two steps ahead of everyone else.”  
  
Toal snorts. “He has never encountered a Necromonger then.”  
  
“He managed to destroy Starfleet’s London research facility and open fire upon a group of admirals before disappearing…by _himself_ ,” Jim counters, snarling angrily. “Could you do that?” The smile on Toal’s smile immediately disappears as Jim starts pacing. “He wouldn’t be hiding them,” he mumbles. “He wouldn’t be hiding them unless…”  
  
Vaako realizes that Jim has stopped moving and appears to be frozen on the spot, his features sharply corrugated. “Unless what?” he presses.  
  
“Unless…” Jim echoes, turning towards Vaako. “ _No_! They didn’t. They couldn’t have…there wasn’t enough time…”  
  
He starts pacing again, his movements so rapid that it makes Vaako’s head hurt just by observing him. “What? What couldn’t they have done?”  
  
Jim shakes his head. “Dammit,” he hisses to himself, forgetting the room full of confused spectators. “Dammit, Spock! Why did you do it? What the _hell_ were you thinking?”  
  
Toal leans over, his eyes on Jim. “What in the hell is he talking about?”  
  
“If he doesn’t have a crew and he’s only one man, then why is he coming for us?” asks another Necromonger.  
  
Jim looks at everyone, his eyes wide with terror. “Not us,” he rasps. “ _Me_.”  
  
“You are mistaken,” Toal replies. “He wouldn’t come all the way out here to go after one man!”  
  
“His crew…they were still on my ship,” Jim rasps, swaying on his feet. “They were still on my ship when he destroyed it.”  
  
Vaako rises from his seat. “What do you mean?” He rushes to Jim’s side, grabbing him by the shoulders and steady him.  
  
“Khan’s crew was still on my ship. Spock must have gotten them out of the torpedoes…” Jim rambles, his body trembling violently in Vaako’s hands. “He’s coming for me. Khan…his crew is dead. He wants _me_.”  
  
Vaako shakes his head in understanding and turns to Toal. “Commander, have our ships form a blockade and raise their shields to full. They are not to lower them under any circumstances,” he orders Toal as he keeps Jim from crumbling to the ground. “Monitor all communication frequencies and make sure that Khan cannot scan the life forms on this ship.”  
  
“Yes, my lord,” Toal replies as he salutes Vaako.  
  
Jim groans as Vaako wraps an arm around his waist; he leans into the embrace, unable to keep himself upright on his own. “You are all dismissed,” the Lord Marshal tells the room before he escorts Jim. The rushed walk back to his quarters is punctuated with the red alert sirens and Necromongers rushing to their stations. Once the doors to his quarters close, Jim breaks the silence between them.

“He doesn’t want you,” Jim rambles. “He wants me…”  
  
“Well, he’ll have to go through my armada to get you,” Vaako says as he maneuvers Jim towards his bedchamber. He commands the lights to turn on and takes Jim to the bed where he eases him down onto the mattress.  
  
Jim shakes his head. “You don’t understand,” he whimpers. “Khan won’t stop until he has what he wants…”  
  
“He won’t get you,” Vaako declares as he kneels in front of Jim. “I won’t allow it.” He stares into those frightened eyes and yearns to do something, _anything_ to comfort him.  
  
Jim blinks back tears. “Let him take me,” he begs through trembling lips.  
  
“No,” Vaako says, shaking his head. “ _No_. It’s out of the question!”  
  
“He’ll kill you.”  
  
“What do you think he’ll do to you, little dove?” Vaako asks, cupping Jim’s cheek. His thumb comes back wet with the tears falling from Jim’s eyes.  
  
Jim swallows back a sob. “But you’ll be alive,” he reasons.  
  
Vaako cups Jim’s other cheek, searching his face. “He will not have you.”  
  
“I’m just a pleasure slave,” Jim says as he grasps Vaako’s wrists. “I’m not worth risking everyone’s lives. Let him take me… _please_.”  
  
Vaako stares at him for a span of heartbeats, licking his lips nervously before he decides to speak. “My feelings for you have changed and with it my affections and wishes,” he tells Jim as he presses their foreheads together. “You are so much more than slave, James. You have bewitched me; mind, body, and soul. I will not let harm come to you and I will be damned if he takes you from me.” 

He seals his words with a gentle, wet kiss that silences Jim. Vaako feels Jim grasping at his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. Jim breaks the kiss and buries his face in the Lord Marshal’s throat and shakes and shakes as he sobs. “Please don’t leave me,” he whispers desperately. 

Instead of answering, Vaako just holds Jim tighter.

 

* * *

  
It seems like hours have passed without Vaako realizing it when there is a discreet knock on the door of his bedchamber.

He shifts against the duvet that he’s lying on top of, careful not to rouse Jim from his slumber, and slips out of bed. On the other side of the door is Toal, who stands there with a grave expression. His dark eyes flicker to the sleeping figure on the bed. “He’s resting I see,” he comments.  
  
“The news of Khan’s return has been…taxing,” Vaako replies, keeping his voice low as he steps into the hallway. “What information do you have?”  
  
“Our sensors have picked up the ship. It’s about to reach the blockade,” Toal says. “Your presence is needed on the bridge, my lord.”  
  
Vaako nods in understanding, though he loathes the idea of leaving Jim on his own. “Could you summon Healer Edit?” he asks. “If he does wake, I would prefer if he doesn’t do it alone.”  
  
“Of course,” Toal answers. He goes to leave before turning back to Vaako. “Your slave has surprised me, Siberius. He is stronger than I reckoned.”  
  
“It’s little wonder why he was chosen to lead,” Vaako says. “Give me a moment and we will depart.” He goes back into the bedchamber to fetch his jacket. Vaako glances towards the bed and watches Jim rest before walking over.  
  
Jim looks so peaceful, so young as he sleeps curled on his side, something which has repeatedly astonished Vaako. Vaako leans over him and runs his fingers through the lock of golden hair that falls over Jim’s brow, gently brushing it back. He strokes his lover’s skin before pressing his lips to his lover’s forehead. “When you wake, little dove, this will all be over,” Vaako whispers against his skin. “You will be safe in my arms and Khan will become a distant memory.” He presses another feather-light a kiss to Jim’s mouth and takes one last look at him before leaving for the bridge.

As Vaako steps outside of his bedchamber, he notices Edit has arrived and waits next to Toal. “My lord,” she greets.  
  
Vaako nods. “Take care of him,” he orders, though it sounds more like a plea.  
  
“Of course, my lord,” Edit replies with a sincere smile.  
  
It is all Vaako can ask for, so he leaves.


	11. strages

Jim opens his eyes the moment Vaako leaves the bedchamber.

The phantom press of his lips tingles against Jim’s own remains, lingering like the tears still burning his eyes. Swinging his legs over the mattress, Jim pushes himself up and sits. All around him is a new life—one he never imagined for himself or dreamed of—and somehow, it’s like a missing puzzle piece falling into place, allowing him to embrace his reckless nature with abandon. There’s no one to shame his actions—only to encourage them—and Jim feels like he was meant to be here amongst the Necromongers all long. 

Starfleet had given him a purpose; a direction when he had none. It may have stifled the infamous Jim Kirk wild streak, but it had been good to him. It brought him self-worth, friends, a family, and most importantly, Bones. Bones who allowed him to indulge in his reckless side—though not without a comment or two—and still cared for him without contingencies. Jim had failed him and his crew as Starfleet had done the same to him, practically pushing him into the arms of darkness. 

Except it isn’t so dark. 

There is light and hope in the Necromonger Empire, though it does not shine like the ideals of the Federation and its Starfleet. It’s still there; twinkling in the darkness and guiding Jim towards his new home. A home that he vows to protect no matter the cost. He knows from being amongst the Necromongers that their military is formidable and that most would not oppose them. 

But Khan…he could be the end of them all if the Necromongers underestimate just how dangerous he truly is.  
  
“You’re awake,” Edit states as she enters the room, breaking Jim’s train of thought.  
  
Jim glances as the lights come up, revealing both occupants to each other. “I am,” he responds. “Did he go to the bridge?”  
  
“Lord Vaako?” Edit asks, before nodding. “Yes; he and Commander Toal just left several moments ago.”  
  
He frowns. “Has Khan reached the blockade?”  
  
“I do not know,” she answers honestly. “Commander Toal summoned me here per the Lord Marshal’s request. Why do you ask?”  
  
“They don’t know what they are up against,” Jim says cryptically as the creases on his forehead deepen.  
  
Edit raises a brow. “He’s just one man,” she tells him. “Surely he cannot do as much damage as you are letting onto.”  
  
“Trust me when I tell you that he is,” Jim counters with a raised voice. He shakes his head at her. “Edit…he is not a man. No one on his ship has _any_ idea of what Khan is capable of. He is dangerous and he will kill us all if _I_ don’t stop him.”  
  
Edit exhales as she crosses her hands at her belly, the sleeves of her robes covering the pale skin. “Did you convey your knowledge to the Lord Marshal and his counsel?”  
  
“Not that they listened, but yes,” Jim replies. He sees that Edit is furrowing a brow as she goes to Vaako’s closet and opens it. “What are you thinking?” he asks as he rises from the bed and watches her rummage.  
  
Edit’s head pops up and her green eyes are on Jim. “Nothing that you’ll like,” she says.  
  
“Try me.”  
  
Edit sighs as she grabs a dark hooded cloak that belongs for Vaako and turns around to face Jim. “We have two options, James. One is that you go to the bridge and try to convince Vaako not to reason with Khan.”  
  
“He’ll probably have me thrown in the brig if I even try,” Jim says.  
  
Edit nods in agreement and thrusts the cloak into his hands. “Or we get you onto Khan’s ship. I’ve seen you fight, Jim. You are a warrior at heart, despite you not being a Necromonger. You know more about Khan than Lord Vaako and his men…this is your fight.”  
  
Jim stares at the cloak in his hand before gaping at Edit. His expression turns into an easy grin. “I _knew_ I liked you for a reason,” he quips before throwing the cloak on over his clothes.

 

 

* * *

 

  
As Vaako sets foot on the bridge, he finds that a pale man with equally pale blue eyes is staring at him on the view screen. His skin is so white that Vaako can see a faint network of blood veins. He watches as the man’s lips curl into a smile that resembles more of a sneer. “Khan,” Vaako says.

His skin is so white that Vaako can see a faint network of blood veins lying under it. He watches as the man’s lips curl into a smile that resembles more of a sneer. “Khan,” Vaako says.  
  
“You have heard of me,” replies the man in an accented baritone that is much different from Jim’s. He sounds impressed, gratified even. “Then you know why I am here, Lord Marshal.”  
  
Vaako’s nose flares in a quiet rage. “My answer is no,” he states.  
  
“No?” Khan asks as his steely expression melting away to one of mild surprise. “No, you don’t know why I am here or no, you will not give him to me?”  
  
Vaako studies this man; this Khan with his merciless stare and composure hiding his savagery. He does not recall Jim describing him, but Khan seems to fit the image that Vaako had in his head and then some. “I will not give him to you,” Vaako answers sternly, watching Khan’s lips flatten into a straight line. There is no satisfaction in seeing it. “You have come here in vain and I suggest that you leave quietly before you earn more of my wrath.”  
  
Khan’s brow arches, the peak disappearing under the locks of hair that falls over his forehead. “I must say that I am rather surprised that you would hold on to a slave so tightly,” he comments. “Jim Kirk must be of value in the bedchamber.”  
  
“He is no longer your concern,” Vaako replies curtly.  
  
“Oh, but he is. He is, you see,” Khan tells him with a smile. “The _captain_ and I have some unfinished business between us.”  
  
“Your business with him was done the moment you sold him to the Orions. Anything you wish to resolve will be done through _me_.”  
  
Khan smirks. “You are a possessive sort,” he states with amusement. “Tell me, how does he like being one of your toys? Does he cry for you as well?”  
  
“You _will_ be silent,” Vaako warns.  
  
Khan explodes in a fury that leaves his eyes blazing like hellfire. “ _You_ will be _silent_ , Necromonger! _You_ will fear _me_ and bow to _me_!” he screams at the screen. Flecks of saliva fly from his mouth like a mad hound. “You _will_ obey _me_!”  
  
“I only obey Death,” Vaako replies coolly.  
  
This statement pacifies Khan, who leans back in his chair with a smug grin. “Death?” he asks. “Then death I shall give you.”  
  
Before Vaako can react, the _Basilica_ is rocked by the concussion force of an explosion. The ship whines and lurches before it’s rocked by another wave. “Have we been hit?” Vaako yells.  
  
“Not us, but three of the fighters at the front of the blockade!” replies a Necromonger as he stares at his monitor in disbelief. “I’ve never seen anything like his weapons!”  
  
Vaako glares. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Those cannons obliterated the ships. There’s not even a fragment left of them!”  
  
Vaako turns to the screen to see Khan’s demonic grin. “Were any other fighters hit?”  
  
“Only minimal damage, my lord,” replies another Necromonger.  
  
Vaako sighs heavily, knowing that it will have to do as he looks to Toal. “What about the _Basilica_?” he asks, his mind turning to Jim.  
  
“Reports of minor injuries, nothing more.”  
  
Vaako turns back to the screen with an incensed frown on his face. “You…” he growls.  
  
“Have I got your attention now?” the other man asks.  
  
“I will have your head on a spire,” Vaako hisses.  
  
Khan shrugs. “I look forward to it,” he replies. “Now, I will let you decide: the lives of you and your crew for Jim Kirk.”

 

 

* * *

 

  
Jim and Edit are in the hallway when the first concussion force hits the Basilica, knocking them both to the ground. 

Debris starts to rain down upon them. Jim grabs Edit, covering her with his body as the ship dips and lurches. He can hear people screaming as more objects fall and the sharp inhale of Edit’s breath. The ship settles with a sharp jolt that makes Jim’s stomach drop.  
  
“What was that?” Edit asks panicked.  
  
Jim stares down at her, seeing the fear etched into her features. “It’s him,” he says, easing them both to their feet. “Khan, he’s here.”  
  
“He certainly likes to make his presence known,” Edit snaps as she finds her footing. “Come, the armory is this way.”  
  
Jim follows her, making sure that the hood keeps his face concealed. “He certainly does,” he replies. “How do you propose getting me off this ship?”  
  
“We have a transporter located near the healer’s bay,” Edit tells him over her shoulder. “And I know how to operate it.”  
  
Jim pauses, dumbfounded. “How do you know…?”  
  
“Where I am from healers were well-versed with modern technology,” the healer explains as she casts a glance at Jim. “We were persecuted for our practices until Lord Marshal Riddick liberated and brought us into the fold. It wasn’t difficult to figure out how the transportation devices worked and it’s not like a healer rouses much suspicion.”  
  
Jim cracks a smile. “You’re sneaky,” he laughs.  
  
“I’ve been called worse,” Edit declares with a grin. She pokes her head around a corner, probably looking out for Necromongers, before turning back to Jim. “Let us equip you.”  
  
She and Jim rush into the empty armory just as the red alert sounds again. Neither of them hesitates as they run to the weapons on the racks. Jim searches the racks, his eyes darting from throwing knives to spires and more. “Do you know if they have something small, easy to conceal?” he asks.  
  
“Will this do?” Edit replies as she pulls out a firearm. She smiles as Jim takes the weapon from her. “It’s a Gravity Gun.”  
  
Jim surveys the weapon in his hand, his eyes full of awe. “How much damage will it do?”  
  
“The fire bursts are comprised of gravitational force,” Edit explains as she keeps looking for useful weapons, wrinkling her nose at a Necro Spear. “The blast can throw targets several meters off their feet _and_ leave a crater-like wound, which is usually fatal.”  
  
Jim nods. “Good,” he says. “This is perfect.”  
  
“This is a Poll Axe,” Edit tells Jim as she thrusts another weapon into his hands. “The infantry forces use these during battle. This end—” She nods her head at the pendulum-style blade on one end “—is similar to the Terran guillotine. The other end is a standard Necromonger spear tip.”  
  
Jim places the gun in an interior pocket of his cloak. “These will do,” he declares.  
  
“Good. Now follow me,” Edit tells him.

 

 

* * *

 

  
“So,” Khan says as he casually fingers the armrest of his chair, “you have seen what firepower I have on board this ship; so _my lord_ , will you keep being stubborn or give me what I want?”  
  
Vaako sneers and exhales a tense breath. “Necromongers do not give in to threats of madmen,” he retorts.  
  
“Madmen?” Khan questions. “You believe me to be mad, my lord? Did your little pet not tell you about me and what I am capable of? Or shall I show you again?”  
  
Vaako doesn’t have the time to reply as another concussion wave rocks the _Basilica_ , setting off a flurry of alarms. “You are trying my patience, Khan! What’s the damage?”  
  
“Five more fighters, my lord,” replies one of his crew.  
  
Vaako rushes the view screen, his teeth gnashed. “Order their weapons to full and show no mercy!” He watches as the armada’s fire rocks Khan’s ship and the look on the man’s face as Vaako retaliates against him.  
  
Sparks and alerts illuminate the bridge on Khan’s ship, washing his face in red. It is a fitting color for the Augment, giving his features a sharper, more sinister appearance. “You are brave, _Necromonger_ ,” Khan growls.  
  
Vaako ignores him. “What’s the status of his ship?”  
  
“His shields are at ninety-percent,” Asmin reports. “Weapons are still at full.”  
  
Toal turns to Vaako. “How is that even possible? Our fire should have compromised his ship!”  
  
“You can fire at me all you want, my lord,” Khan tells them. “I will still stand while you kneel at my mercy unless you give me what I want.”  
  
Vaako whirls around, his composure giving way to rage. “You will _not_ have him! You can follow me into the Underverse itself and I will never give James over to _you_.”  
  
“You would really go into the depths of Hell for him?” Khan questions, his voice tinged with amusement. “A pathetic human?”  
  
“James Kirk is a man of honor.”  
  
“And blazing stupidity. You are foolish to have sided with him just as he was a fool to blindly trust me.”  
  
Vaako scowls. “You are a fool to underestimate his worth.”  
  
“His worth?” Khan starts laughing maniacally. “Jim Kirk is worth _nothing_! I made sure of it! He has _nothing_ to offer you, not even his broken body and mind!”  
  
“He has honor,” Vaako says sharply, “where you have none.”  
  
“My lord,” calls a Necromonger.  
  
Vaako rolls his eyes. “Not now.”  
  
“But my—”  
  
“I said not now!” Vaako snaps, craning his head towards an ensign. “What is so important?”  
  
The ensign swallows, nervousness showing in his dark eyes. “Someone has activated the transporter on near the healer’s bay, my lord.”  
  
“What?” Vaako gasps as he marches over to the ensign’s station with Toal on his heels. He stares down at the screen. “Do you know who’s down there?”  
  
The ensign shakes his head.  
  
“Find out!” Vaako roars, his voice echoing across the bridge. He hears Khan chuckling, patronizing him.  
  
“My lord!” the ensign exclaims. “I tracked the transportation beam to…” He pales.  
  
“Where?”  
  
“ _His_ ship,” the ensign replies quietly, nodding his head towards the screen.  
  
Asim looks up, his face stricken. “My lord, I just got word that Healer Edit was found near the transporter,” he says.  
  
Vaako swallows roughly, knowing full well that the healer was ordered to keep Jim in his quarters and not to leave his side. He should have known that the young man would be so headstrong… “And Jim?” he asks, trying to keep his rising panic hidden.  
  
“He is not with her,” Asim replies.  
  
“ _Unauthorized passenger_ ,” chirps the computer on Khan’s ship. “ _Unauthorized passenger._ ”  
  
He hears Khan laughing. “It seems that I have a guest.”  
  
Vaako turns back to the screen to see a pair of familiar blue eyes staring at him in a silent apology before Khan cuts the connection.

 

* * *

 

As the _Vengeance_ ’s stark black and cold transporter room appears to him, Jim has to remember to breathe.  

This place haunts him even if it was another lifetime ago; its memory still makes his pulse race as fear winds its way through his body. Jim’s eyes shift around as he steps down from the transporter pad. It’s so much like the one that was on the _Enterprise_ , save for the dark color of the walls. The shackles the Orion slaves traders forced him to wear flashes into his mind as he pulls off the hood and exits into the corridor, moving quickly. Jim takes the Gravity Gun out of Vaako’s cloak and studies the weapon briefly. It is similar to a phaser, though it only has one setting. This is not meant to serve as a warning, like many of the Starfleet weapons, but to kill. 

Long ago Jim would have had an issue with a device like this, but he is vastly different from that idealistic Starfleet captain now. He has been broken and shattered, then rebuilt into someone who sees the universe for what it really is—diseased and dangerous, wrapped in darkness and silence.  
  
The _Vengeance_ rocks under his feet as he makes his way to the bridge through corridors washed in red lights. He tries not to remember that this ship is the last place he saw Scotty as they ran to the bridge to stop Admiral Marcus or how Carol watched her father’s skull be crushed by Khan’s bare hands. Or that the bridge was the final place that Jim heard the voices of his beloved crew…  
  
…and Bones.  
  
_God Bones,_ Jim thinks as he hurries. _I am so sorry._  
  
The thought of his best friend ignites a need to save his doppelganger, Vaako. The other man had saved Jim from self-destruction and hadn’t set any expectations of what he should do and when. He eased the pain of his loss and made him feel wanted, truly wanted. Perhaps if this crazy stunt works, he could be loved.  
  
Jim turns a corner, and then another as he follows the sound of raised voices ricocheting off the walls. There is the deep baritone that haunts his darkest nightmares and Vaako’s voice as they argue.  
  
“You are brave, _Necromonger_ ,” Khan growls, the last word said like a curse.  
  
Jim pictures the rage on Vaako’s face as he hisses, “What’s the status of his ship?”  
  
“His shields are at ninety-percent,” someone reports. “Weapons are still at full.”  
  
“How is that even possible?” Jim hears Toal demand. “Our fire should have compromised his ship!”  
  
“You can fire at me all you want, my lord,” Khan tells them, his voice taking on a sinister tone. “I will still stand while you kneel at my mercy unless you give me what I want.”  
  
He swallows and closes his eyes; his mind going back to the day that Khan destroyed his ship. Anxiety starts to crawl its way through his body until he hears Vaako’s furious yelling.  
  
“You will _not_ have him! You can follow me into the Underverse itself and I will never give Jim over to _you_.”  
  
Jim chokes on his breath. “No, Siberius,” he whispers, shaking his head. “ _No_ …”  
  
“You would really go into the depths of Hell for him?” he hears Khan ask, failing to hide his amusement. “A pathetic human?”  
  
“James Kirk is a man of honor.”  
  
“And blazing stupidity. You are foolish to have sided with him just as he was a fool to blindly trust me.”  
  
Vaako scowls. “You are a fool to underestimate his worth.”  
  
“His worth?” Jim hears the augment laugh maniacally. “Jim Kirk is worth _nothing_! I made sure of it! He has _nothing_ to offer you, not even his broken body and mind!”  
  
“He has honor,” Vaako says sharply, “where you have none.”  
  
Jim closes his eyes, drowning out the noises around him as he slips the Gravity Gun back into his cloak and prepares to walk onto the bridge. He knows that Vaako is going to be angry, betrayed even. As he takes a step forward while clutching the Pole Axe even more tightly, Jim hopes that he will understand and one day forgive him for what he’s about to do.  
  
“ _Unauthorized passenger_ ,” chirps the computer on Khan’s ship as he walks onto the bridge. “ _Unauthorized passenger._ ”  
  
Jim inhales deeply over the sound of Khan laughing, “It seems that I have a guest.”  
  
He has just a moment to see Vaako on the viewscreen, possibly for the last time. Just a single moment to take in his dark eyes, full lips, and the look of complete and utter horrified realization before Khan cuts the connection. “So,” Khan says without turning around.  
  
Jim swallows. “So,” he echoes, watching as Khan stands up and turns around slowly. He is still the same: unnaturally pale with serpentine features and pure evil radiating from him. “I’m here like you wanted. Now let them go.”  
  
“So you are here,” Khan chuckles darkly. He takes in the sight of Jim in Necromonger attire and holding their weaponry, free of everything that is Starfleet. “I cannot decide if you are incredibly brave or stupid.”  
  
Jim shrugs. “Perhaps both,” he counters.  
  
“Perhaps,” Khan says in a low voice, his pale eyes still on Jim. “You have not asked about my crew.”  
  
“They’re dead,” Jim states, taking a step closer. “You killed them when you destroyed the _Enterprise_.”  
  
Khan’s face contorts into a rage, his skin burning red as he storms up to Jim and backhands him, sending the man to the ground. “ _You_ murdered them!” he shrieks, delivering a kick to Jim’s side.  
  
Jim cries out, his lower lip splitting further and dribbling blood down his chin. Several meters away likes the Pole Axe, having been dropped when Khan hit him. “I didn’t know they were still on board,” he rasps as he gets to his knees. “But _you_ pulled the trigger. In the end, _you_ murdered them. Not me.”  
  
Khan goes to attack him, but Jim is quick on his feet and bounces away. He hears Khan collide with a console, denting the metal with his body. Jim vaults on top of the Augment, delivering a series of punches to his head and torso. He knows that it’s only stunning Khan and not truly doing any damage, but the release feels satisfying. Besides, if he’s going to die, he may as well go out fighting.  
  
Khan roars, hurling Jim off his body towards a parallel console. “You lie,” Khan hisses. “You planned it all along and had your pet Vulcan do it for you! It was your leverage to ensure that I kept my promise.”  
  
Jim groans as his vision becomes tinged with darkness and phosphene flashes. As he moves towards the Pole Axe, his body screams from the impact, leaving his ribs and back protesting.  
  
“Your toys won’t save you,” Khan states as he steps in front of Jim. He hand grabs Jim by the front of his shirt. “Not even your precious Necromonger lord can come to your rescue.” 

The Augment flings Jim again. His face slams into the grated floor, where it scrapes his skin and digs into his already abraded flesh. Bruises are blossoming all over Jim’s skin while blood rolls down his cheek from a cut under his eye. Jim listens to Khan’s laughter as he stands over him and watches as Jim rolls over his back. Jim kicks him in the groin and watches as a pained wince crawls over Khan’s features. 

“You are a murderer,” he snaps as he forces himself to his feet. “I should have listened to Admiral Marcus when I had the chance.”  
  
“Admiral Marcus was a fool,” Khan retorts. “He was a Starfleet pet, much like yourself, with dreams of domination and war.”  
  
Jim shakes his head, ignoring the spinning sensation that seeps into his body. “I never wanted that.”  
  
“Then what did you want, _Captain_? Exploration and first contact? To see new galaxies and witness new life forms?” Khan taunts. “To go where no man has gone before? You are dreaming!”  
  
A furious shout erupts from Jim’s lips as he heaves himself at Khan. He punches, claws, and kicks him, harder than he did on Kronos. Jim feels the Augment’s skin under his fingernails and his blood on his own flesh. Khan tackles him to the ground, his hand shooting out for the Pole Ax as Jim grabs the Gravity Gun. Khan’s pale fingers touch the staff as Jim pulls the trigger. As the weapon goes off, a searing pain fills Jim’s abdomen and steals his voice so he cannot scream. He looks up at Khan, whose pale eyes are registering shock, perhaps agony as he realizes there is a gaping hole in his chest. Khan falls to the wayside, his groans filling the bridge. 

Jim stares up at the ceiling, his chest heaving from the effort as he wraps his fingers around the Pole Axe and forces the spearhead out of his body. He finds his voice then and cries out as his trembling hand clutches the wound. As blood pours through the cervices of his fingers and soaks his clothing, Jim uses the Pole Axe to rise to his feet. He comes upon Khan, who lies on his side, trying to breathe. 

His eyes flicker and moving towards Jim’s direction, staring at him in awe and fury. “You murdered my crew,” he rasps. “You took my _family_ from me…all for nothing.”  
  
“I am sorry for your loss,” Jim replies as he stands over Khan. “I am truly sorry for all that you have suffered…”  
  
Khan snorts. “You are not sorry,” he says through gritted teeth. “You enjoy this…watching my suffering.”  
  
“No,” Jim tells him as he raises the spear. “I am not like you. I won’t take joy in the suffering of others, even yours. A wound from a Gravity Gun is fatal and soon your vision will go along with the slowing of your heart. You will die, but unlike other times before, you will not wake.”  
  
Khan rolls his eyes. “Why wait?”  
  
“Because I am not cruel,” Jim answers. “I am going to kill you humanely.”  
  
“I would not afford you the same death.”  
  
“I know. I’m not doing it for me,” Jim says as he watches Khan’s eyes darting around, trying to find the source of his voice.  
  
Khan swallows. “Who are you doing it for?” he struggles to say.  
  
“ _My_ family.” Jim watches Khan take his last breath, his sightless eyes looking up at him, before raising the other end of the axe over his neck.

  
 

* * *

 

  
“His shields just went down!” Asmin yells to Vaako, who is furious pacing the bridge.  
  
Vaako stops mid-step, relief and fear clawing inside of his stomach. “What?” He rushes to Asmin’s console and looks over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Someone has released his shields,” Asmin says as he types on the keyboard. “And his weapons just powered down.”  
  
Without hesitation, he leaves the bridge and runs to the transporter room with Toal behind him. Blood roars in Vaako’s ears as he makes his way through the _Basilica;_ he’s only focused on getting to Jim as soon as possible and hold him his arms, knowing that he’s alive. 

“Get me on that ship,” Vaako orders as he enters the transporter room, frightening the other Necromongers who are there. “Now!” he shouts as he mounts the pad.  
  
Toal stands next to him, holding a Necro Spear in one hold and his Gravity Gun in the other. “We may need this,” he says, handing the gun to Vaako.  
  
Vaako nods, ignoring the other Necromongers who get on the pad with their weapons. “Get us as close to the bridge as you can.”  
  
“Yes my lord,” answers the transporter technician before Vaako is enveloped with bright light.  
  
The light fades, revealing the dark corridor of Khan’s ship. Breathing in, he smells rancid air filled with death and destruction. He thinks of how Jim was held prisoner in this place and that he swallowed his fears to save Vaako and his people.  
  
“My lord over here!” shouts a Necromonger, pointing his spear towards an open doorway.  
  
Vaako runs, pushing passed the Necromonger and halts as he takes in the sight before him. Khan lies in a pool of blood, his body headless and clearly dead.

“Sweet mother of god,” Toal whispers, nudging Khan’s decapitated head as Vaako shouts, “ _James_!”  
  
He rushes to Jim, who is slumped against a console, his bloody fingerprints all over the keys, levers, and metal. “James,” he whispers at his lover. “James?”  
  
Blinking his eyes open, Jim slowly cranes his head towards the sound of Vaako’s voice. A weak smile appears on his lips as Vaako kneels next to him. “Hey,” he mumbles and then, coughs. “You made it.”  
  
“You are hurt, little dove,” Vaako says as he notices the blood seeping between Jim’s fingers.  
  
Jim swallows and rests his head against Vaako’s shoulder. “How’s the ship?”  
  
“Out of danger,” he replies as he applies pressure to the wound. He hates hearing Jim’s whimper and hates seeing him in pain even more.   
  
“Good…”  
  
“You saved the armada,” Vaako tells him. “You used what he wanted against him.”  
  
“It’s what you would have done,” Jim says, weakly.  
  
Vaako turns to Toal. “Have the healers in the transporter room,” he orders.  
  
“Yes my lord,” replies the commander as Vaako looks back to Jim.  
  
“I had to do it,” Jim whispers. “I had to stop him before he took you from me.”  
  
Vaako hushes him. “We need to get you back on board the _Basilica_ before you bleed out,” Vaako says as he gently cradles Jim to his body and lifts, trying to ignore the sound of his lover crying out in pain.  
  
“I couldn’t let him take you from me,” Jim whispers into the crook of Vaako’s neck.  
  
Vaako shakes his head. “And you didn’t, little dove,” he counters gently. “I’m still here.”  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Jim mutters, his voice slowly fading. “So sorry…”  
  
“Do not apologize, little dove,” Vaako tells him. He waits for his lover’s response as the transporter lights surround them and then fade away, revealing the _Basilica_ ’s transporter room. “James?” He glances down to see Jim’s closed eyes and slack mouth. “Little dove?” Vaako whispers, bringing two fingers to Jim’s neck before flinching back in horror. “There’s no pulse. There’s no pulse!”  
  
It happens in increments: one moment Jim is lifeless in his arms and the next, the healers have torn them apart and loaded him onto a stretcher. Cavan shouts orders as he straps an oxygen mask over Jim’s nose and mouth. 

The next minute Vaako stands alone on the pad, his breathing coming in labored, disbelieving pants and Jim’s blood staining his hands.


	12. orcus

There is darkness.

An endless, vast darkness that feels unfamiliar and yet, envelops him in comfort and warmth. Sound becomes a distant memory as if it’s gone, never to return. To become untangled from the feeling of being protected and safe is difficult, so he lingers. He allows his surrounds to hold him in its arms, cradling him until he begins to hear voices. They’re muffled and unclear at first, sounding like he’s being held underwater. Like he’s far from shore until they gradually grow clearer in time with his body becoming stronger.

Only then do his senses begin drifting back to him.  
  
The first voice he recognizes is his father’s. The one recorded during the _Kelvin_ ’s final moments that he’s heard over and over again.  _Tiberius? You kidding me? No, that's the worst. Let's name him after your dad. Let's call him Jim._  
  
His mother’s voice follows like a faint, distant memory before the others come. Spock’s monotone, Nyota’s biting quips, Scotty’s brogue going on about sandwiches, Sulu’s wisecracks, Chekov’s enthusiasm…  
  
Admiral Pike’s challenge in a dive bar. _I dare you to do better_ , he whispers.  _I’m proud of you, son,_ he tells him.

And finally, he hears Bones.  _Jim_ , Bones murmurs softly into his ear. Fingers card through his hair, pushing it off his forehead and massage his scalp. _Jim, it’s time to wake up,_ he says. 

Inhaling sharply, Jim’s eyes snap open, surprised to be awake…and _alive_. He notices machines monitoring his vital signs and realizes he must be in the healer’s bay.   
  
“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Cavan snaps. “You were _barely_ dead.”  
  
Jim stares at him, his eyes widening as he watches the old man darting around his bedside. Edit’s red hair falls over him as she looks down at him, smiling serenely. “You were in a coma for two weeks,” she says, bringing a glass with a straw to his lips. She grins as he sips obediently.  
  
“Coma?”  
  
Cavan glances at him from over his shoulder. “You lost quite a bit of blood,” he explains. “By the time Lord Marshal Vaako beamed you both back to the _Basilica_ , you didn’t have a pulse. We were able to mend your injuries and replenish your blood with a transfusion.”  
  
“Transfusion,” croaks Jim as he closes his eyes. “Where’s Siberius?”  
  
Edit touches his blanket covered foot. “I shall fetch him,” she tells him before leaving.  
  
“He was worried about you,” Cavan remarks as soon as they’re alone while he scans Jim’s vitals with a tricorder. A grin appears on his wrinkled face. “He barely left your side, even after I told him that you were out of danger.” 

Jim raises a questioning brow but says nothing. 

“Yesterday evening, I finally made him return to his quarters,” Cavan adds. “He would have worn himself into the ground and then we would be an armada without our Lord Marshal. It doesn’t sound as fearsome, now does it? Now tell me, are you feeling homicidal, revenge-driven, or unwisely brave?”  
  
Jim cracks a weak smile. “No more than usual,” he rasps before closing his eyes once more.  
  
“I suppose you will make a full recovery then,” the lord healer quips.  
  
The sound of rushing footsteps cause Jim to blink as the door slides open and he sees Vaako standing at the threshold. “James?” He looks painfully exhausted; the dark circles under his eyes more prominent than usual, but relieved once he sees that Jim is awake. “Little dove,” he breathes as he rushes to his bedside and leans in to press a kiss against Jim’s forehead. “I thought I’d lost you.”  
  
Jim shakes his head. “I’m still here,” he replies with a smile.  
  
“So I see,” Vaako muses as he cups Jim’s face, his thumbs brushing against his skin. “You are a brave one. I see why you were made a captain by your Starfleet.”  
  
Jim wrinkles his nose. “No accounting for taste,” he quips. He turns serious, licking his dry lips before speaking. “You saved my life.”  
  
“The healers and I had something to do with it too, you know,” Cavan snaps. 

Jim and Vaako turn to him, both of their brows raised in amusement before looking at each other. “You saved my life, little dove, and the lives of my people.”  
  
“I think this where you just say thank you,” Jim tells him. He watches as Vaako’s lips quirk into a smile before he kisses him. Jim sinks into it with a content sigh, having missed the sensation of the Lord Marshal’s lips against his own.  
  
“I missed that,” Vaako confesses when they break apart as if he has read Jim's mind. His eyes roam over Jim’s healing body. “I missed all of you, little dove.”  
  
Jim swallows. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.  
  
“Do not apologize,” Vaako soothes as he brushes Jim’s hair off his forehead. “Just get well and come back to our quarters.”  
  
“ _Our_ quarters, is it?” Jim teases.  
  
Vaako nods. “Yes, _our_ quarters,” he says. “In _our_ bed…in _our_ room, little dove. I meant what I told you before and with it, we are equals now.”  
  
“Equals?” Jim asks, stunned.  
  
Vaako chuckles. “Just come home,” he whispers. “Come home to me.”  
  
Jim does four days later. His body still has a way’s to go in terms of being fully healed and for now, he’s left exhausted and in moderate pain. When he’s brought to Vaako’s bedchamber, he finds that all of his belongings are there: his clothing is in the dresser or hung in the closets and his chess set is on the bedside table along with a stack of books. “He wasn’t kidding,” Jim comments to Edit while she tucks him into bed.  
  
She laughs. “No,” she replies. “When the Lord Marshal has his mind set on something, it is difficult to dissuade him. It sounds like someone else I know.”  
  
They trade a look before they chuckle. The movement in Jim’s torso makes his healing wound ache, cutting his laughter short. As Edit applies a hot compress to his stomach, Jim reaches for her hand. “Thank you for what you did,” he tells her.  
  
“You’re welcome,” she says, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. She kisses the top of his head. “Try to get some rest so you can stay awake when Lord Vaako returns.”  
  
Jim’s eyelids are already well on their way to closing as Edit tells him this. Between the warmth of the heating compress, the comfort of the bed, and the familiarity of being back in Vaako’s bedchamber, he falls asleep without much trouble. 

Several hours later, he opens his eyes to find Vaako curled protectively around him as he reads from his tablet. “Hey,” Jim says as he reaches for Vaako’s hand, sighing happily as he entwines their fingers together.   
  
Vaako kisses his temple. “Hello,” he says. “You look quite content, little dove.”  
  
“I’m just happy to be home,” Jim tells him.

 

* * *

 

Richard Barnett finds himself rushing across Starfleet Headquarters just as the sun sets over the San Francisco Bay.

He enters the main hall and flashes his badge to the officers before heading towards the lifts. Truth be told, Starfleet has added more security since their run-in with John Harrison. They’ve already lost the _Enterprise_ and uncovered their top admiral’s duplicity —adding safeguards seems like the next logical step. James Komack waits for him, looking pale and nervous. 

“So it’s true?” Barnett states. “They found the _Vengeance_.”  
  
Komack nods solemnly as he hands him a PADD. “I have adjourned the other admirals to figure out our next course of action,” he says quietly as they hurry into the conference room.  
  
“And Harrison?”  
  
Komack shakes his head. “Dead,” he replies. “Decapitated and left on the ship. I can’t say I feel sorry for him, but…it is a barbaric way to go.”  
  
“Jesus,” Barnett comments breathlessly. “What’s on the PADD?”  
  
“Initial findings and some security footage,” Komack explains. “It seems that the ship sustained some damage to the central grid and the footage the _Kennedy_ was able to recover is shoddy at best. I doubt we’ll find out who killed him, but perhaps we can piece together what happened.”  
  
They enter the conference room where the other admirals wait. Barnett motions them to be seated as he looks for Christopher Pike out of habit. He’s gone now, his body buried in the ground, while his protégé’s name has been engraved on a plaque along with the others who perished on the _Enterprise_. “Let’s begin,” he says as he sits down and activates his PADD. “James, please do us the honors.”  
  
Komack clears his throat before speaking. “Fifteen hours ago, the _USS Vengeance_ entered Federation airspace and was spotted by the _USS Kennedy_. They tried to hail the ship, knowing that the fugitive, John Harrison, was said to be on board. After several failed attempts to hail him, a scan of the ship’s life forms was performed.” 

He presses on his PADD and a holo photo appears in the center of the room. Harrison’s decapitated body lies in a pool of blood, causing a few admirals to quietly voicing their disgust or joy at the man’s gruesome demise. “When the crew of the _Kennedy_ boarded the ship, they came upon this scene,” he says before rotating the image. “The murder weapon is located here and a cloak was found just outside the bridge.”  
  
“That looks like a Necromonger weapon,” says an admiral as she squints at her screen. “That one with the double spear ends.”  
  
Komack nods. “A Pole Axe,” he replies. “The initial theory is that Harrison had an unfortunate run-in with the Necromonger armada.”  
  
“But there hasn’t been reports of the Necromongers near Federation space,” Barnett says as he glances at Komack. “Perhaps Harrison crossed over the Neutral Zone like we originally thought?”  
  
“It makes sense. The Necromongers tend to stay in the Beta and Delta Quadrants,” another admiral tells them.  
  
One of the other admirals snorts. “And it’s not like they would subject themselves to questioning.”  
  
Barnett shrugs. “It is possible that Harrison went into one of the quadrants, I suppose.”  
  
“Anything is possible,” Komack counters as he switches to a holo-video. “This is the only clear security footage the _Kennedy_ was able to retrieve from the _Vengeance_ ’s system.”  
  
The black and white footage begins to play, soundlessly. A figure appears in the darkened corridor, moving towards the camera. As they come closer, the angle changes to show a hooded man with a Pole Axe in his grip. He waits outside the bridge, at which point the video turns to static before clearing up a moment later. The man reaches for his hood and hesitates before pulling it off. He briefly turns towards the camera, then disappears as he steps onto the bridge.  
  
“Pause that!” Barnett shouts. “Rewind it to five seconds before he enters the bridge.”  
  
Komack does just that, his brown eyes scrutinizing the image.  
  
“Well I'll be damned,” exclaims one of the admirals. “That looks like Jim Kirk!”

 

* * *

  
_Six Months Later_  
  
While Vaako relaxes in bed, Jim enters their bedchamber looking like a mischievous child.

He spies the grin on his beloved’s mouth as he kicks off his boots and raises a brow. “What did you do?” Vaako asks as he sets his book down.  
  
“What makes you think I did something?” Jim asks, feigning innocence before rolling his eyes. “I _may have_ done something.”  
  
Vaako chuckles. “May have? Of course, you did,” he replies with a grin as Jim approaches their bed.  
  
“I want to show you something,” he says as he reaches for the hem of his shirt.  
  
Vaako tilts his head as he watches Jim raising the fabric the familiar lines and planes of his fair skin. Skin that Vaako’s touches a thousand times over with his hands and mouth. “If it’s your body, I’ve already seen it,” he states.  
  
Jim scowls momentarily as he holds the shirt before dropping it on the floor. Even with his features wroth in annoyance, Vaako thinks he’s the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen. “Do you remember when we first met you told me that I was yours now?” Jim asks as he continues to undress, ridding himself of his pants and revealing his naked body.  
  
Vaako’s eyes follow the seductive path of hair leading from Jim’s navel and down to his half-hard cock bobbing temptingly between well-muscled thighs. “Vaguely,” he answers as Jim steps out of his pants and comes towards him. “Remind me.”  
  
“You were taking me to your shuttle,” Jim says to him as he crawls over the bed to straddle Vaako’s lap. He reaches for one of his hands, kissing the pale fingers one by one, then his palm. “I had called you Bones and you were angry with me and said _you’re mine now_.”  
  
Vaako winces, remembering the incident of which Jim speaks of. What an ass he had been! “I should never have said that to you,” he whispers as he cradles Jim’s cheek. “It was cruel.”  
  
“It’s safe to say that I have experienced crueler things than your temper,” Jim teases with a smile. He tilts his head as he takes Vaako’s hand in his, moving it slowly down his body. “It also goes without saying that I enjoy your temper.”  
  
Vaako snorts back laughter before pressing his lips into Jim’s collarbone. “I think you enjoy making me lose my temper, little dove.”  
  
Jim hums in agreement as he skirts Vaako’s fingertips over his left side. “I think you enjoy it as well.” 

Vaako becomes confused when Jim’s hand stops. He lifts his head to stare at Jim, who appears nervous as he motions for Vaako to look. It takes a moment for Vaako to realize that he’s touching the raised skin that turns out to be smoother than he expected. He wonders why Jim allows him to do such a thing—to touch him  _there_ , where the brand Khan inflicted on him—when he’s spent nearly a year ignoring its existence. 

Perhaps Khan’s death that released the last of his anger and grief. Or perhaps he wholly trusts him.  
  
Vaako shifts Jim’s body onto the mattress and leans over him to press his lips onto Jim’s fair skin. He loves it when Jim is laid out like this—so gloriously ready and willing—and briefly wonders how someone could have taken him by force. He’s glad that Khan is dead and that Jim was the one who dispatched him because Vaako knows that he would have never shown the Augment an ounce of mercy. Vaako goes to anoint the brand with lips and tongue when he stops and stares, wide-eyed, at Jim’s rib cage. 

“Are you angry?” Jim asks quietly.  
  
Vaako traces the vivid black and red ink that is etched into his beloved’s skin. The lines of various thicknesses weaving themselves into the Necromonger seal, covering Khan’s mark to eventually be forgotten. He presses his lips to it as Jim exhales with a sigh and gazes up at him. “No,” he replies. “No, not at all. It’s beautiful…much like you.”  
  
“It means I’m yours,” Jim declares to him as Vaako runs his thumb over the seal. “Whatever is left of me, it’s for you.”  
  
Vaako pauses before he leans in to kiss Jim. They only break apart to strip him out of his clothes, which Jim chucks onto the floor. In their bed, they make love though Vaako doesn’t dare call it that because Jim is not ready to hear such things. Together, they move slowly on top of the dark sheets while Vaako keeps his hand pressed against the seal, creating a brand of his own. 

Later when Jim sleeps in his arms and Vaako strokes his hair, he watches him and wonders how he became so lucky. Running his knuckles over his beloved’s, he chuckles softly as Jim’s features wrinkle.  
  
“You and I,” Vaako whispers, “together we will rule this empire…like the sun and moon rule the sky. We will be happy, little dove.”  
  
It is a pleasant dream.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Tracing Skin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1308064) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account)
  * [Preparations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1311673) by [hammer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hammer/pseuds/hammer)
  * [The Dragon in the Doorway](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4876573) by [RedFlagsAndDiamonds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedFlagsAndDiamonds/pseuds/RedFlagsAndDiamonds)
  * [Broken Vow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8039854) by [RedFlagsAndDiamonds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedFlagsAndDiamonds/pseuds/RedFlagsAndDiamonds)




End file.
